Tomorrow's Memories
by Aquile Storm
Summary: Seven years had passed since she erased his memories. Seven years since she had left him and never looked back. Seven years, until he had found her, battered and broken near his home. It’s been years, but now she’s spiralling back into his world. IchiRuki
1. A Prologue to A New Beginning

A/N: 1) Written since a few people requested a continuation for my other oneshot _In The Falling Rain._ Hopefully, I can reach the expectations.

2) Trying out something new here, so there's two main POVs I'm going to use in this— **Third point of view**, which will mainly focus on Rukia and her thoughts; First and Second point of view which will depict Ichigo and Rukia respectively. This sign ※ indicates a POV change, while a line breaker will indicate a scene/time transition. Hope I got that clear :D

3) _Italicized and centered paragraphs are flashbacks_

* * *

**Tomorrow's Memories**

I- A Prologue to a New Beginning

_Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it. ~Michel de Montaigne_

**_- _**

From the rooftop she jumped lithely to the ground, one leg bent beneath her and the other extended towards her side, with her fingers spread on the tarred road. She stood up with composed grace and looked around her. Familiarity crashed towards her like a tsunami wave.

She was stationed here again— Karakura.

It's been seven years since she's been here— seven years after that cruel incident; seven years after she left this place and never looked back; seven years of regret which slowly faded into her heart, making her colder, emotionless.

Numbness surrounded her like blocks of ice in the white winter. She felt nothing after that incident. _That incident_ where she had so selfishly, so stupidly, so regrettably had taken the memories out from her beloved… for what?

Even now she couldn't find the answer to that perpetual question.

_She saw the disappointment in his eyes. He knew._

_"Why?" he choked._

_She said nothing._

_Then the button was pressed._

_And she left. _

_No_, Rukia forced herself to compose herself. She forced back all the memories here to the back of her mind. If she could, she wished to erase every memory about this place, about _him_, but always when she tried, she never could find the courage to do it.

Was it cowardly of her? Was it selfish? For her to keep her memories when she _wanted_ to forget them of him whereas he _unwillingly_ lost his?

_Stop it, Rukia. You have a duty here. _A_ s_hinigami does not need feelings, her brother had told her. They are a burden to your duties, an obstruction, slowing everything down. And shinigamis —especially Kuchikis— need to be as efficient as possible.

She checked on her hollow-tracker in her Soul Phone, her rabbit keychain arcing with the movement. That hollow was forward on, 12 o' clock. She spotted it in front of her, a typical one — huge, with its pearl-white mask plastered permanently on its ugly head and the hollow on its chest.

Rukia unsheathed her zanpakutou as she charged towards it — slowly at first then faster and faster before she lithely jumped towards it and swiftly struck it with Shirayuki. But its vast size did not affect its speed or acuity. It evaded her attack almost with no difficulty and Rukia landed on the ground without so much as touching the hollow.

The hollow roared, piercing yet echoic, animalistic and raw, sending vibrations all through the ground. With a swift movement, it twisted its body and swung its tail towards Rukia. She tried to evade, but was unsuccessful and was thrown back to the wall.

Rukia grimaced and jumped towards the hollow once more, aiming at the head— something she had always told _him_.

_"Aim for the head! It's their weak spot!"_

_"Shut up, midget! I know tha—_

The hollow's spike grazed her shoulder blade, and Rukia was thrown to the ground. She mentally cursed herself for being distracted— something that she wouldn't normally do. Blood was flowing out from her shoulders, staining her black robe and emitting that overpoweringly sharp metallic smell. Her right arm was no longer able to hold the zanpakutou firmly. Rukia cursed once more, to the hollow and to herself.

The hollow plodded towards her, its red eyes shone with hunger as it stared into the shinigami's eyes. She felt no fear, no pain at that moment; the numbness was all around her again. An idea was slowly planned in her mind as she felt the roars from the hollow get closer.

It was right in front of her.

Rukia slashed the hollow with her zanpakutou. The swing was slightly weaker than usual, since she was using her left arm. But it was effective; the hollow wasn't expecting her to attack. It roared, reverberating much too clear to her ears but she knew it was nothing other than silent wind to the sleeping civilians around her.

Using the hollow's newly inflicted injury as her distraction, she once again attacked it, and this time, her zanpakutou met with its mask and smoothly sliced it in half. The hollow disintegrated into thin air and Rukia collapsed, her back on the wall, breathing heavily.

Her blood was pouring steadily from her shoulders, and this time the pain was felt, sharp and deep. Souvenirs from her carelessness. She clutched her arm and shut her eyes as she tried to nullify the waves of pain, but it seemed like nothing can ever stop it. Renji would ridicule her for being so careless. As the soft green glow slowly healed her arm, she kept her mind off the pain and let her surroundings fall around her, taking each detail into mind.

Despite herself, her lips formed a small bitter smile.

This was where they met, ten years ago.

_"Give me the sword, shinigami."_

_"It's not shinigami. It's Kuchiki Rukia."_

"Are you okay?"

A voice, it sounded so familiar yet so foreign, that far-off resonance kept up in one of the masses of files in her head. She knew whose it belonged to, she knew it very well. Even so, Rukia struggled to keep her head low, to refuse her instincts to look up. She feared that if she did, she'd be sucked back into his world again. She _knew_ she would.

It was too late; Rukia found herself staring back into those beautiful eyes. And suddenly it felt like a hollow had punched her in the stomach, except that this… _this_ had so much more effect than brute force from a heartless soul. Seven years ago she forced her feelings to be crammed up, screwed tight, sealed with a lock, and buried under a piles and piles of ice cold walls. But those eyes… chocolate brown and flecked with auburn and gold, had smashed those blocks of ice walls, unlocked the lock, effortlessly unfasten the lid, and let her suppressed emotions fly free.

She felt like she could stare into those eyes forever.

Just like seven years ago, that scowl refused to leave his features. Even so, she noticed an apparent change in him. He looks much different, less of that act he used to hold back in high school. He looks much more mature, no longer the 15-year-old teenager, who resembled any other street punk, with his bright hair, tight t-shirts and low hanging jeans.

"You're hurt," he said, his eyes noticing the gash on her shoulder. He crouched in front of her, a look of concern washed over his face— something that she hasn't seen for a while. But that didn't stop Rukia from losing her composure or her thoughts. She needed to get away, now. Quick as a rabbit from the foxes, she placed a hand on her wound and stumbled to her feet. The healing green glow was vanished hastily, like a breath of summer's wind.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"You are not," he stressed, taking a hold of her other shoulder. He spoke to her like she was a stranger; then again, she _was_ one to him now. He tugged onto her. He pulled out a checkered handkerchief from his pocket and tied it tightly around the wound to minimize blood loss.

"You need to come with me."

"I don't," she said firmly, holding on tightly to the lamppost beside her. Rukia started to walk off, but he was firm.

"I am not going to let some woman, as battered as you, simply walk away like that." She tried to walk off anyway but he held on to her and said, "Your shoulder's bleeding badly, you were limping and your ankles are swollen and red; it's clearly twisted."

"I do not—" He pulled her up and smoothly carried her on his back. She fidgeted and tried to wriggle away, but he held her tight.

"You idiot! Let me down!"

"Careful," he hissed. "I don't want you to get even more hurt." She started for a bit; it felt like an eternity ever since someone talked to her like that. He held her tightly and said, "Don't move." Rukia found herself obeying him; was it natural instincts because she was hurt or was it because she _wanted_ to be there?

"Here." He held up a plastic containing boxed bento from a nearby convenience store. "Hold it while I carry you. Careful! That's my dinner! I don't want it ruined." Rukia almost smiled hearing that. It almost seemed like his 15-year-old self back then.

They forwarded towards their destination, his footsteps echoing in the lit streets of Karakura. A TV was blaring from a nearby house, the ringing sound of a baby crying, cicadas and grasshoppers playing their nightly orchestra. To the human mind, everything was a normal summer's night, but in Rukia's mind, everything was _not_. Why was he able to see her? To touch her? Wasn't he stripped off his powers that night, seven years ago?

"Ha—" Rukia ventured. "Have you always been able to see stuff like these?"

"Hmm? Like what? An extremely battered woman, on the streets at night while I was out getting my dinner?" he asked, a playful tone in his voice. "No, not really. First time actually. Why? Is this like a habit for you?"

"I meant like… ghosts or spirits around here."

"Of course not. That's just stupid. No one can see ghosts; they don't exist. Did you hit your head?" He tutted jokingly and Rukia found herself smiling at the familiarity of the moment. That part of him would never change, would he?

"Is your shoulder okay, or do you need me to hurry? I don't really want to run. Your swollen ankle looks bad; I don't want to injure it more."

"I told you. I am _fine_."

Rukia could see him rolling his eyes, skeptically. "Yeah, and you are actually a ghost."

She let herself smile at the response. Her arms unconsciously wrapped closer around his neck as she laid her head on his shoulder. It all seemed so memorable; it was as if she had never left this place at all. How long has it been since she felt as peaceful as this? The numbness that she had felt seemed to wear off with each step he took. Her eyelids felt heavier and heavier as time passed.

_"Hey, Ichigo?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I like it here…"_

_"Here… meaning on my back as I carry you? Coz as sure as hell I don't. Rukia, you weigh a ton— OW! Violent midget! You— OW! Okay! Okay! No more names! Geesh!"_

_"You idiot. Here as in Karakura… it feels like home. …What?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"Kurosaki Ichigo! What was that smirk for?"_

_"Pfft. Kuchiki Rukia being sentimental— what a sight. OW! OW! Okay! Sorry! OW! Okay!!"_

"We're here."

She jolted back awake when she heard his voice. What was that— a dream? A reverie? It was so nostalgic; she remembered the days where this town was her home for three years. She didn't recognise the place that they had reached, but he opened the door to it and went inside.

He carefully placed Rukia on a nearby sofa. He undid the handkerchief on her shoulder and thoroughly inspected the wound. "Your wound isn't that deep. Surprised me, really, because considering the amount of blood when I saw you, I thought you needed stitches." Rukia didn't tell him that shinigami can heal themselves, albeit slowly; he didn't need to know that. Not anymore. He peered her foot carefully and gently ran his fingers over the swollen area. "Grade one sprain. Doesn't look bad," he mumbled to himself. "Lie down."

He elevated her twisted foot with a pillow, applied an ice pack on her foot, then took all the necessary medications and apparatus to help her. Rukia watched him work. He'd become quick and skillful at this. Her brother was right; leaving him was the best thing for him. Look at what he has become. Rukia couldn't imagine what he would become if he remained a shinigami.

Maybe he would still be battling petty hollows in his town. Maybe he would have to constantly get treatments for all the wounds he would have gotten for being careless. Maybe he would have become a taichou in Soul Society. Maybe he would have become a really good shinigami— but was that the kind of a life that a human being should go through? She didn't think so.

If he stayed as a shinigami, he couldn't have could concentrate in his studies. If he continued staying like that for the next seven years, he wouldn't have become the aspiring doctor that he'd always wanted to be. If he remained being a shinigami, he wouldn't have led a normal life; a life that all humans have the right to settle in. He wouldn't be _this_ man in front of her.

In a way, she was proud of him.

She mentally cursed herself for wanting him to stay as a shinigami. She was such a selfish person to want to strip him away from all this normalcy, from being the real person he could be.

Her eyes strayed to the ceiling of the room. A common beige colour, with the fan spinning somewhat fast in the summer's night and the cool white lighting was illuminating the whole room. This place didn't seem familiar at all but he seemed at home in this place. His house? Rukia glanced over at him and smiled to herself.

What are the odds of her being here again?

What are the chances of her seeing him?

Next to impossible.

And yet, here she was, lying comfortably on his sofa with not more than the occasional thought buzzing in her head, watching him. She briefly wondered whether this was one of her dreams, but this… unlike her dreams, felt so tangible, so _real_. _Was_ it a dream? Or was it some sort of twisted plot that Fate may have planned out for them?

But then, he was there and so was she… so if it was a dream, she plans to stay asleep for as long as possible…

※

"This is going to sting a bit," I mumbled, as my eyes were locked on to the cotton ball. I looked up. Your eyes were already closed and you were breathing lightly, almost as if you were completely healed. "Asleep already?"

Well, that made things easier.

Without another sound, I quickly dabbed your wound then wrapped it in a beige bandage. I inspected your foot once more before finally running my eyes you.

Have I seen you before?

You shivered as I touch your hand. I thought, for a brief moment, my skin felt a little tingle too. The feeling seemed so familiar to my body, as if I've experienced this before. But how could I? I don't really think we've met before. I don't even know your name! And yet, your touch made me curious.

You shivered again. And then I realized; the room was cold and your garment was soiled. How careless of me. With hesitant movements, I undid the dirty white sash (were you out for a cosplay convention?) on your waist. The sash fell soundlessly on the floor as I pushed the collar of your black _gi_ across your milky white shoulder, being extra careful with your injured arm. I tried to look away as I pulled the sides of your _gi_ slowly.

To my relief, you were wearing a _nagajuban_ underneath. I decided to stop there before anything else happened. My heart was beating madly behind my ribcage. Why?

But, I decided not to ponder upon it. Quickly, I covered you with one of my shirts. You hardly noticed it, even when I was zipping up the tracksuit top. Too big, that was obvious. It seemed like the fabric itself was eating you up whole.

My mind seemed to click when I had saw you for the first time tonight. It was as if I had met you before, but I'm positively sure we hadn't crossed paths before. My brain raced to figure out one question:

_Who_ are you?

* * *

Much thanks to **Alice001** who had given me permission to post this up, since she has a story with a sliiiightly same plot. You rock! :D Read hers too, it's awesome!

Anywho, posted this today since I probably won't be online for a fortnight because of a trip to Beijing this Friday. Grammar mistakes, characterization errors, typos and the like are a proof of my human flaws.

Reviews and reviewers are loved, cherished and will keep a smile on this author's face :D


	2. Spiralling into Her Radiant Sun

II- Spiralling into Her Radiant Sun

"_In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified." -_John Updike

-

She woke up from her slumber with the gentle rays of morning's light showering her face and the lulling music of two singing white-throated sparrows meeting her ears. She was reluctant to rise up amidst such a lovely morning; above that, her sleep was restful and dreamless, one which brought such tranquillity to her mind after the many frustrating nights of insomnia.

She unwillingly opened her eyes, expecting to see her almost bare room in the Kuchiki House, expecting another servant of the House asking for her requests for breakfast, expecting herself to say, 'nothing' as usual.

But what came to view was far from what she had expected: a slow-spinning ceiling fan, a thin yet comfortable blanket that covered her body, an ajar window by her side, blowing in the summer's breeze and no Kuchiki House servant.

She sat up on her designated sleeping place and looked around. The area was definitely not her room, far from it. Other than a built-in closet, a desk littered with books and stationery, a pile of clothes near an adjoining door, the room was minimally furnished with items.

And she was not wearing her shinigami uniform either. Taking place of the customary black uniform was a grey tracksuit. _His_ tracksuit, she recalled with a smile. That she knew; it has his smell, a poignant smell that she had grown accustomed to. There was a tang of cinnamon scent and a tinge of white lilies— maybe he used the same softener that Yuzu used all those years ago? She buried herself in the fabric and smiled to herself. She missed this.

She missed _him_. So much.

"Thought you'd be awake."

Rukia turned towards the voice and forced her beating heart to calm down. She cursed herself. She needed to get used to hearing his voice now and again. He was standing by the doorway, holding a tray of what she thought was food. Sitting on a chair near the bed, he placed the tray on the desk. His hair was flattened with dampness and he smelled like soap. She had this compelling urge to run her fingers through that mess of orange hair.

"Wha—" she started.

"You fell asleep," he explained, not even having to hear the full question. "I couldn't let you sleep in the living room, so I brought you here."

"Here…?"

"My bedroom… my apartment." He tilted his head towards the door. "Don't worry. I slept in the living room instead. Nothing happened, if that's what you were thinking." He handed her the tray of food and said, "Breakfast."

'Breakfast' consisted of cereal and milk with a glass of orange juice. He added unnecessarily, while rubbing the back of his neck, "I tried to _make_ something, but the egg turned black and toast burned."

No one asked her what she wanted. She just had to accept it. Cereal and milk, in exchange of her usual extensive breakfast at the Kuchiki House.

Rukia loved it.

Her face broke into a smile, and the smile broke into laughter.

"No need to laugh!" He raised his voice while his cheeks addled into a mottled rubicund and pink. "I _tried_, okay?" She covered her mouth and gradually her laughter stopped. A few seconds passes before she noticed that he was staring at her for a moment, taking in all her depiction. His amber eyes blinked curiously at her form, like looking back at a long forgotten friend in an old photograph.

Her turn to colour.

"What…?"

"Nah, you just look familiar. Have we met before?"

Her heart beat erratically behind her ribcage; it felt so loud, it was as if he could hear it too. Nevertheless, she grinned. Acting has been quite a talent for her; pretending who she was and who she wasn't, hiding her feelings deep in the caverns of her heart, lying about her needs and wants. She's had a lot of practice with her brother— not much shown to him was what she really felt.

"Of course not," she said.

To which he let out a chuckle again. "Yeah, you're right. Course not."

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he introduced.

Rukia smiled, before taking a bite from her breakfast. "Kuchiki Rukia."

Contented, Ichigo swivelled towards his desk and started reading one of the thick books sprawled on his desk. For seven years, she had been longing to see him clearly— Rukia had glimpses of him while doing her duty somewhere nearby Karakura, but hindered by her fears, she had never been able to really _look _at him. This time, however she was so near, so _close_ to him, every feature seemed to be magnified under her liquid violet eyes. The petite woman let herself stare at his character, taking in all his features one by one.

Those brown eyes were flitting rapidly above the words, taking in all the meaning behind the text. His skin was sun-kissed, smooth, and tanned. That soft orange hair obscured his view a bit; he constantly had to push them out of the way. Those rough calloused hands were playing around with the pencil he was holding and—

He turned towards her.

"If you keep staring at me like that, Rukia, your cereal would get soggy."

She held her chin up stubbornly. "I wasn't looking at _you._"

The sides of his lips curled up in a skeptical smirk. She knew that look. It was his trademark 'Yeah-right-sure-you-weren't' grin. "Eat up, will you?"

She took another spoonful. "For the record, I was _not_ looking at you."

"Mmhm," was his lackadaisical reply.

And with that she spiralled back into this world again, as she knew she would. She had turned her sun into a black hole ever since she forcefully ripped her memories from him. And now the same black hole was pulling her entire essence into this world again.

This time she didn't give a damn about what her brother thought.

She let herself spiral back into his world, _Ichigo's_ world.

※

Your injuries were extremely fast-healing, I noticed.

The wound I saw yesterday was practically gone; any trace of it was no longer there. I even wondered to myself whether it was really there from the beginning or not. Surely my mind was playing tricks.

"But yesterday there was a lot of blood… you were bleeding, your clothes were soaked," I thought out loud.

"I'm a fast healer. You're a doctor, Ichigo. You should know why."

"Not to this extent, seriously."

You shrugged, not minding the fact that your body heals itself much faster than the normal human rate. It was a bit of, shall I say, a miracle? I swear to God, I'd honestly be filled with disbelief if your foot was suddenly all better today.

I have no reason to though.

"Your foot's still swollen, Rukia." I gently traced my fingers over the inflamed area. "It could take a week to heal. But with your healing rate, I'd guess in three days."

"So," you suddenly said, looking up at me. "Can I stay here because of that?"

"Not necessarily. You could go home— it's just a sprain. It'll get better in no time." You stayed silent. I wondered whether I've said something wrong. "Rukia?"

"'Not necessarily'. I mean… I _could_ stay here too, right?" You looked at me with those eyes. I noticed they were purple with a hint of dark blue. What was that? Pleading? Entreating? No, not that. _Hopeful_. I felt… something when you looked at me like that. I don't know what it was, but it felt refreshing.

I asked you, "Here, as in… my apartment…?"

I must have sounded doubtful, because you looked away as soon as the words passed out of my mouth. "Ah, I see. Well, pretend I didn't—"

Rubbing my hand across my neck, I answered, cutting your sentence, "Well, yeah, sure… you could, but—"

I didn't manage to end my sentence when I saw you smile at me. Really s_miled_ at me— with your small lips curving up, your cheeks lightly colouring, and your eyes shining bright— like I've done you a huge favour.

"Thank you, Ichigo."

Well, what else could I do?

I smiled back at you.

※

Rukia gathered her shinigami uniform and carefully walked out the door. She had told Ichigo she wanted to get something, but she didn't mention what, where or when she'll be back. Rukia had released a sigh of relief when Ichigo didn't question her; he'd just said, "Be careful, Rukia. Don't run too fast— your ankle's still swollen."

'_Be careful, Rukia.'_

She smiled at that. She had just noticed that she would smile each time he called her name. Rukia. Ru-kia, that's how he pronounced it, enunciating every syllable as the word rolled off his tongue. A moderately-toned 'Ru' and a mild articulation for 'A'.

She smiled again. It felt ages since the petite shinigami had smiled so genuinely at someone. After that incident, she thought, was the beginning when she wouldn't smile at anyone in Soul Society anymore. He cured that.

He was like her sun after all, bright and revitalizing. Enough to make anyone beam back at the brilliance of his shine. His presence was enough to melt the ice surrounding her heart, enough to warm it back up again, and enough to make her _Rukia_ again.

Rukia held back a giggle. Of course, when they were in high school, he was _nothing_ like that. Not a sun… more like a thunderstorm— scowling, yelling, basically trashing about. He liked to put the weight of the world on his shoulders, burdening himself, not going to share the load on anyone. Ichigo… he does have a lot to carry at that time— trying to be a decent son, a helpful brother, an achieving student… a good shinigami.

Was it the fact that he was a shinigami his burden multiplied?

But then again, it was _because_ he was a shinigami, she had met him. _Because_ he was a shinigami, she had gotten to know him. And it was because he was a shinigami, she had loved him. T_ruly_ loved him.

And yet, sometimes, everything was like a mass of contradictions with him. At one moment she felt like shoving Shirayuki up places where it shouldn't be and at the next moment, she would be back in his arms, touching him, kissing him, loving him.

It was like a confusing, exciting, fanatical storm of emotions, ready to overcome her at any time. Crazy, really. Tiring, sometimes. But all in honesty, she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Rukia arrived at her destination.

To her surprise, the door was open; that red-head wasn't outside the store, slacking off; that droopy-eyed girl wasn't gambling with janken to see who had to sweep the front. It was just like a… normal store.

My, my, things have changed since then.

"Ara, ara! Kuchiki-san! Long time no see!"

Rukia looked up to see that familiar unshaved face under that striped hat and clad in that green kimono. The shopkeeper fanned himself with his all-too-trusty fan and gestured for her to come in. Opening her shoes, she arrived at her destination: the Urahara Shouten.

Rukia looked around that once derelict shop. There were edible candies and chocolate stacked on dust-free shelves, up to date books and magazines in their places, and actual usable stationery on sale. And in reasonable prices too! This little shop apparently had a bit of a makeover.

Urahara seemed to sense the questions from her. "After you left, there wasn't really much of a need for stuff like gigais and Soul Candies." He continued on lively, "So I thought, why not open up a shop? As in, a real shop? Business isn't what I call booming, but hey, it's fine." Urahara sat at his usual spot at the on the cushion and unfolded his fan, fanning himself— it was summer after all. "So, what brings you here?"

She hesitated for a moment. Was she doing the right thing? Or was she going to spiral into another chain of errors and mistakes with this action? Rukia took a breath and followed her intuitions.

"I was wondering whether you have… a gigai."

Urahara raised an eyebrow in askance beneath that striped hat. He decided not to ask, and plastered on his usual grin. "Oh, sure, sure! But it's a bit old and unused for a while, I'm afraid. Please hold on, alright?"

After a few moments, Rukia saw Tessai coming out from the back of the store, bringing out something recognizably memorable— her gigai. It still fits perfectly. "How much?"

"Ah, I can't be taking money from you after all this while! On the house!" he exclaimed. "Just for this time, though~!"

Rukia didn't object. She readily took the gigai, gave a curt bow as a form of thanks and left the store. Urahara looked on as her footsteps scuffled across the sandy ground until she took a turn to the left and disappeared from sight.

"My, my," Urahara commented after the petite shinigami had left. "Looks like Kuchiki-san is back again."

"She's with Ichigo," Yoruichi told, curling her midnight black feline body around the shopkeeper. "I saw her two nights ago… I've heard about stuff regarding her brother for her long-time absence in Karakura. If Byakuya-bo is in this… well, do you think she's making a mistake?"

"Ma," Urahara breathed enigmatically, stroking the cat. "Who knows…"


	3. Not Ordinary Inquisitiveness

**A/N: **Mini update~ Sort of.

POVs in flashbacks will change accordingly— either Ichigo's First POV, Rukia's First POV, or a Third POV. It'll be pretty obvious, so hopefully no one would get confused :) Of course, if at any moment, confusion appears, I'm always available via PM/reviews XD

III- Not Ordinary Inquisitiveness 

"_It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time." -_Barbara Kingsolver

-

"Ichigo!"

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "I'm _reading_!"

You opened my door, a ladle in hand, and a frown etched on your face. Somehow, you reminded me a bit of Yuzu ages ago. I had to hold back an amused grin as you berated me to come downstairs or else I'd drop dead in front of my 'oh-so-precious' books and it _won't _be of exhaustion or starvation.

"Yeah, yeah, Rukia, I'm coming. Geez, you don't have to nag." I scraped the chair against the floor, irritating you even more (my plan actually).

"I would have to, or else you'd _never_ come to eat," you retorted as we walked down the hallway heading towards the kitchen. "Honestly I feel like dragging you by the ear to get you downstairs sometimes!"

"If you can reach it."

You kicked my shin and ran downstairs.

It's been a week when you first moved in. Your foot was healed (I knew you were a fast healer!) but I said nothing. I never even asked you where you were from, why were you here. All in actuality, apart from your name, I hardly know anything about you. Yet I feel like I can trust you wholeheartedly. Besides it felt… nice having you here, actually.

It's always great having someone to talk to, whenever it felt a bit lonely in this apartment. Not to mention you're pretty amusing whenever I tease you about stuff ranging from heights to art skills. And your home-cooked meals always taste better than the boxed bento from the convenience store.

"I made curry rice tonight— your favourite, right?"

Yup. You knew. As you sat on your seat, I served both of us the meals; it was like an unspoken rule— you make the food and I'll serve them. (Though the dish-washing was based on who lost in janken each night)

"So." You tucked into your meal. "How's your practicum going on?" You were talking about my three month long posting at Karakura General Hospital. It's been nine months since my first practical in Karakura GH, and my new posting —in the paediatric sector— had just started two weeks ago.

I shrugged. "Not much happens. Just the usual… oh, yesterday I heard from the ups, that there was a case of a boy being stung by hornets."

You cringed. "Ouch. How was he?"

"He'll survive. Although I'm sure he'll have this trauma over bees now."

"Poor kid."

I took another spoonful of rice and nodded. I swatted an imaginary fly away from my point of view. I noticed that you wore that pale yellow dress I bought you last week. You sipped your orange juice— you seemed to like orange juice, in the morning, during lunch and even at night before going to bed.

"_Stupid, stupid, stupid juice box!" _

_We were on top of the school roof. And this girl… this oh-so-'smart' girl continually stabbed the surface of an innocent juice box again and again with a yellow straw. What? Didn't you know how to open a juice box?_

"_Ichigo," the girl called out to me. She knew me? For some reason, I think I've met her before too. Those amethyst eyes look oddly familiar. The rest is just a blur. She held out the offending juice box and complained,"It's being stupid. Help." Sighing at her, I pulled the box and straw from her hands and easily poked in the straw._

"_That thing's prejudiced!" the ebony-haired girl commented. I rolled my eyes. Sure, blame it on the juice box, why don't you?_

_She took a sip from the box and then looked up at me. The girl smiled and said, "Thank you, Ichigo."_

_That smile lit up my face and left me grinning—_

What was that? No, seriously, _what_ was that?

A random flitting of my imagination or a scene from a movie I watched? Or was it… something else?

Whatever it was I wanted to get that odd sensation out from my body. I looked away from my food and towards you, finding for something to talk about.

"What happened?" I asked you when I noted a band aid covering your middle finger.

You glanced at the direction to where my finger was pointing. "Oh, that. Cut my finger just now by accident."

"Did you wash your hand before putting on that band aid?"

You looked at me. "No. What if it wouldn't stick?"

I frowned at you. "Infection might settle in, you idiot. And wipe your hands before sticking; common sense isn't it? Or do you lack in that department?" I grabbed your hand and gently pulled out the offending band aid. The wound wasn't much but it looked deep and the scar still looked bright red. I guided you towards the sink and washed it, receiving a yelp from you (not to mention a quick hit on the head) when I touched the wound.

"Shut up, Rukia. You should've washed it before sticking the band aid."

"Stupid! It hurts!!"

Tongue in cheek, I pressed the wound accidentally-on-purpose. You shrieked so loud that you could beat a banshee in a screaming contest.

And I guess the throbbing bump on my head was worth that.

※

She forgot how much he had always cared for her.

Rough, he may look; but Ichigo's a really caring guy. She fingered the new band aid on her finger. It was a much neater wrap and this one was a fabric type, instead of the plastic one she had before. She fingered the band aid and repositioned herself on the sofa for comfort.

Ichigo had gone out to buy more band aids since she had used the last one in the previous box. He told her to change it every day, so the wound would be clean.

So here she was, in front of the blaring TV, seeing but not really watching the shows. Her mind was elsewhere and it was simply because that even if she just stayed there, a multitude of memories can come flooding back, raging like a river after a storm. It amazed her sometimes.

"_Idiot. I _told_ you to be careful!" he berated me as he ran my hands under the flowing water. We were baking muffins for tomorrow's school festival and I accidentally burnt my hands while taking the food from that curious human invention called the 'oven'._

_He wrapped my now red hands with a light brown bandage. "And who the hell doesn't use mittens when taking something from the oven?" I muttered a weak 'shut up' to him, but he just looked at me hard and finished tying up the bandage._

"_Next time _listen, _okay?" He pushed me down the chair and started to pick up the fallen muffins on the floor. He sighed. "We'll have to re-do it or risk being charged with poisoning schoolmates with our food. And we're not Inoue so we have no excuse."_

_Despite my situation, I laughed. I got up from the chair to help him, but he ordered —ordered! Me! — to stay still._

"_I'm not your dog, Kurosaki."_

"_Your hand is hurt. I'm not gonna let you."_

"_It's just a burn."_

"_Acute first degree."_

"_So?"_

"_So, you, sit still. I'll manage."_

"_No. I'll help— it's not that painful!"_

_He kicked me out of the kitchen after that._

Rukia laughed at the memory. It seemed so pointless at that time—the fights, the squabbles, the physical and verbal abuse... but now, seven years later, it seemed like something so special that was kept deep in her heart.

They're important, aren't they? Memories. No one can ever know that when exactly those memories can spur in your head and make you laugh or cry. Even those stupid small things that happened between them… it happened. They were her memories; his and hers.

Except that he has zero remembrance about his.

And it was all because of her.

Rukia wrapped her arms around her folded legs, and laid her head on her knees. If memories were totally forgotten, did they happen in his life? Probably not. He can't even remember her name when they first met a week ago, what more those small trivial details in her life?

"I'm home," she heard him say as he entered through the apartment door.

"Welcome back, Ichigo," Rukia replied— it almost seemed like another habit to say that whenever he was back. Somehow, it held a slight connubial feeling to it.

"Here, catch." Ichigo tossed her a small white plastic bag which Rukia promptly caught. She suppressed a smile when she saw the item inside. Maybe he didn't forget _everything_ trivial about her.

Bunny printed band aids.

Ichigo passed her a glass of iced tea and sat on the couch next to hers. "Those damn band aids costs a whole 250 yen extra than the usual fabric types. It's a rip off, I tell you."

She rolled her eyes. "Cheap."

"It's called being economical."

"_Cheap_."

"Being frugal."

"Ch-eeeeap."

"Argh, shut up, Rukia."

She grinned triumphantly at him.

That was another petty fight to add to her memories…

-

It was a bit strange really, about how he could see her in her shinigami form that night, and yet still unable to sense the presence of a hollow nearby.

He sometimes saw her perk up suddenly, jolting up from her book, a show, or even during meals. She would give some reason to bolt out of the room and dash off. Whenever she returned a few minutes later, she always looked irked. Understandable, actually, since she _never_ quite liked being interrupted.

He asked about it a few days back, and Rukia was caught off-guard and hadn't really prepared a lie, had told him something about needing to feed a couple of kittens she found in a box nearby the apartment. She could see that he didn't buy it, but scoffed at her and said nothing.

She was glad he reacted that way.

She would have to create better lies next time.

She still couldn't understand why that happened though. When asked to Urahara about it, he good-naturedly said that it was because that of the 'close bond' both of them shared.

Rukia had tried to restrain the colour from reaching her cheeks.

"Of course not," she said conclusively. "He doesn't even remember my face, how could he remember anything that happened seven years ago?"

Urahara glanced up at her from underneath his striped hat and smiled. "It could be because both of you share the same powers… he could sense that from you. _Even_ if it has been seven years. Powers which are shared could bring some unpredictable effects— which is why they were banned from doing. There were a couple of cases back when I was in Soul Society which, suffice to say, were… unpleasant."

She sat in front of him demurely sipping her tea as her brain came up with more contemplation. "I thought that was stripped off from him? Personally done by my brother, what more."

"Aha…" the shopkeeper breathed. "Kurosaki-san is… a special one. Sometimes even I don't understand it." His gaze strayed off as his brain tried to think up of a reason. After a while he spoke, "Possibly it's, as I've stated, that it's because of that '_close_ bond' you had with each other."

The fact that Urahara winked made Rukia throw her cushion at him and leave.

※

"Where do you live?"

You jolted from your book— mine, might I add— and looked at me. You had this vague expression on your face that I hadn't manage to read. You sat up on your one-seater and placed the book on your lap.

"Chiba. Why?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Chiba? That's miles away."

"I moved to Tokyo with my brother when my parents died."

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "So it's just you and your brother?"

"Yeah. But my sister…" You lapsed into slight silence. The TV was blaring away about some Friday night drama on TBS. The ceiling fan was rotating silently in its arc. You spoke up, "…never mind. It's a long story. Why are you asking anyway?"

I shrugged. "Just…" I searched for the right words. "…wanted to get to know you better. It's been a week half since you've been here and I know nothing about you."

You looked downwards and strayed off away from my gaze. Did I say something wrong? I guessed I didn't, when you looked back at me after a while and grinned, leaning forward to the arm rest, and said,

"Well, what do you want to know?"

※

In his world, she was Kuchiki Rukia, aged 25 (same age as him), born on 14th January, blood type O. This Rukia used to work at a convenience store nearby (for some reason, the Urahara Shoten came into mind at the time), the shop closed about seven months later.

This Rukia had left Chiba when she was 19 when her parents died. She was living with her brother in Tokyo but left because she had an assignment to do in Karakura (white lie, that one was). Her sister died when she was 7— car crash.

She loves bunnies, reading, and drawing. (Ichigo scoffed at the last portion where Rukia just slapped his head, hard.) This Rukia loves cake (more specifically tiramisu and blackforest), hates green beans and is allergic to raspberry. She likes cooking, but hates washing the dishes. She hates the rain but likes snow.

This Rukia was all that and more.

This Rukia was nothing but a big, fat, fictional character in his head.

This Rukia was a _lie_.

※

You told me that you liked to draw…?

Goes to show that what you love doesn't necessarily mean that you're good at it. Your drawings are totally indecipherable! I suppose I should've kept my mouth shut since I now acquired another bruise on my head.

_Any_way_._

I told you about dad, about how he was my personal (personally annoying!) alarm clock up until I graduated from high school. I told you about my mom, about how she had drowned in the river while trying to save me when I was nine. I told you about Yuzu, about her love for cooking too, about her culinary course in Musahiro University and about how I think she would really like you. I told you about Karin, about how the two of you would get really energetic if you met, I think.

I told you I liked reading Shakespear (I sometimes see you read my copy of Julius Caesar), I told you that cooking wasn't a specialty of mine (You had that stupid Of-course-I-know-_that _look in your eyes), and I told you that bunnies are annoying (Aaaaand _another_ bruise!).

Since you asked, I told you about my practical in the Karakura GH, about the patients, the kids, the doctors, the hours, about the whole situation there. You seem to be really interested at this point, your lips were curved up in a subtle smile, your head tilted somewhat in concentration and your violet eyes seemed like they were shining.

To think that this much had been exchanged, I'm not even a bit closer to figuring out who you actually _are._ You still seem familiar in my head— too familiar to be just coincidence; too much fuzzy visions in my head to just be ordinary inquisitiveness.

But no, you were still a blurry face in my head.

Because, all in honesty, I think I _have_ met you before— I really do think so. For some reason my intuitions seems to think that thought and it seems to pull me towards you, to make me want me to know _everything_ about you. Every single significant and insignificant detail about you.

Because I _know_, I recognise you, Kuchiki Rukia.

-~-

**A/N: **I've written lots for this story—so updates will be fixed to one per week, on a weekend! Thank you so much for reading! The next update will be on Sunday next week, 27th December.

Comments make me grin from ear to ear; Constructive criticisms will indefinitely make me improve; Thoughts and opinions will leave me smiling; in thus, Reviews make me happy and gearing up to write more~ Leave some? :D


	4. Serendipitous Rendezvous

**A/N: **Left my lappie at home while on a trip… which explains the reason why I updated a day late. So sorry! But as a compensation, here's a slightly longer chapter-update compared to the last one ;)

IV- Serendipitous Rendezvous

"_Memory itself is an internal rumour."_ -George Santayana

-

The unsaid ritual was simple.

She would cook breakfast each morning, and he would serve it. The person who lost in rock-paper-scissors will clean up any mess. After the compulsory squabbling, he would head off to work soon after.

There wasn't much to do after he'd left, (other than killing the occasional hollows) but recently Rukia finds it enjoyable to slowly clean up any messes in the apartment. She would take the broom and sweep all the way from the living room to the hallways and lastly sweeping everything outside the apartment.

She would then plan on what to cook for him when he gets back during the evening. He likes the simple flavour of her curry rice— made with extra potatoes and extra spiciness; whereas she likes the delicious essence of miso soup— traditional yet always tasty. She would head over to a nearby store and buy all the ingredients ready, using the money where he will always leave near the shoe rack (Rukia thinks it was a silly place to put money, but Ichigo thinks that as long as she knows it's there, it was good enough).

She would then prepare everything and put the ingredients in the fridge before heading over to watch her favourite show on Earth, _Chappy and Friends_.

He would usually return when the credits were rolling, while Rukia was singing along to the theme song. He would scoff at her childishness before heading towards his bedroom to rest. She would retort back at him about how _Chappy _is a very educational yet entertaining show before heading towards the kitchen to cook dinner.

They would talk during dinner, and sometimes they would argue. (Rukia somehow likes the latter— it reminded her of the days long ago.) And at very seldom moments, they will eat in a peaceful comfortable silence.

After the usual bickering over rock-paper-scissors, he would watch TV (usually news and sports) while she reads a book. He would be sprawled out across the two-seater couch and she would swing her legs over the single-seated sofa. About an hour or so later, when he's had enough, he would mumble a groggy, "'Night, Rukia," and return to his bedroom. She would haul out her pull-out mattress from the sofa and lay to sleep.

Simple rituals, they were, but she loves it. She absolutely loves it.

—————

Though it was different on weekends.

Last week they went out to buy her some new clothes. (Rukia pondered briefly why Ichigo didn't complain, but she didn't enquire him. It was better anyway.) This week, they went out for lunch, instead of the usual home-cooked meal. He was oh-so-casual about it; "Let's go out and eat today," he said, so she can't actually say that this was a date.

You can't date someone you hardly know anyway, right?

Not to her at least.

They went to this restaurant that she was so familiar with, Natsu no Kioku; a place that both of them had frequented too quite sometimes. She had once told him that she loved the food here— was that why he had chose this particular place? Was it because he remembered?

"The food here is simply delicious," he said, holding the door open for her. "One of my favourite place."

There were a lot of things that Rukia thinks lacks in Soul Society. And the things that Soul Society lacked, she would undeniably miss. And one of those things was food. She missed food which _weren't_ cooked by the Kuchiki House servants. She missed eating non-Japanese food. And, _Kami-sama_, she missed eating spaghetti!

Ichigo seemed to realize that.

"Oi, Rukia," he muttered. "The spaghetti won't go anywhere. Eat _normally_, won't you?"

She held her chin up— dotted with spaghetti sauce, mind you. "I like my food. So I eat it, fool."

He rolled his eyes. He took a mental note never ever to bring her to a high class restaurant. Then again, it wasn't like he had the money to bring just himself there in the first place.

He held up a tissue to which Rukia stared at it for a couple of seconds before realization dawned upon her. Ichigo subtly pointed to his chin and Rukia dabbed hers with his guidance.

"Think you need a bib next time?"

She looked into his eyes stubbornly. "Say that again and you'd get no dinner tonight."

"So? I can always buy bento from the convenience shop."

"Could bento beat _my_ cooking?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Rukia, but you are not a first-class gourmet chef."

"Sorry to burst _your_ bubble, Ichigo, but I can guarantee my food taste ten times better than your _boxed bento_."

"And I can guarantee that your drawings could put me off from eating for a week so all you gotta do is—OW! OW!!"

"No dinner tonight, Kurosaki. No compromise."

※

I shuffled behind you as I grumbled about my now red ears.

You turned around, mid-step, and smirked at me. "Never irritate me," you warned. There was a tintinnabulation of a bell nearby. Your ears perked up and your eyes observed an ice cream vendor. Indigo eyes sparkled at me as you wordlessly asked me for an ice cream.

"Annoying midget," I muttered as I walked past you and towards the ice cream stall.

"I want mint ice cream please," you said to the vendor. I clucked my tongue against my teeth but paid for the two ice creams anyway. What was with that annoyingly sweet tone? You took your ice cream, smiling from ear to ear as you uttered your thanks to the vendor.

"Dinner?" I asked, sitting beside you on the park bench.

You glanced at me from your ice cream and with an indifferent tone, you said, "No compromises."

"I bought you ice cream."

"You irritated me."

"I_ bought_ you ice cream."

"You _irritated_ me."

"Shut up, Rukia."

"Not going to, moron." You stared up to the sky and watched as the clouds float by in the disarming breeze. I was about to comment on the fact that you had already _did_ shut up, but was cut off when you said to me quietly, "I like this place."

I started for a moment and glanced at you. Have I heard that from somewhere before?

_I heard my voice replying to a disembodied tone. "Here… meaning on my back as I carry you? Coz as sure as hell I don't. …, you weigh a ton— OW! Violent midget! You— OW! Okay! Okay! No more names! Geesh!"_

I shook my head and focused on my chocolate ice cream instead. But the focus disappeared after a few seconds. That line… where have I heard it before? I _know_ I've heard it somewhere. I've never really cared much for these déjà vu moments, but for some reason, this particular one was tugging at me, mocking me.

"_You idiot," the voice replied. "Here as in Karakura… it feels like home. …What?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Kurosaki Ichigo! What was that smirk for?"_

"_Pfft. …being sentimental— what a sight. OW! OW! Okay! Sorry! OW! Okay!!"_

"Oi, Ichigo, you okay?"

"Huh?" I looked back at you. And shook my head. "Nothing. Just… déjà vu. Weird."

You blinked your indigo eyes at me for a while before saying, "It's just a feeling, Ichigo. Let it go." You stood up from the bench and marched straight to the dustbin nearby.

You threw the wrapper of the ice-cream cone in the trash. I saw a flurry of golden brown headed towards you. The golden blur crashed towards you. And you fell, bottom first, to the green grass.

"Rukia!"

You giggled as the previous blur started to bark good-naturedly at you. You were patting its head when I ran over.

"Sorry!" I heard a voice coming to us. I turned around towards the source. A woman, clad in a pale blue dress came bounding over. She tugged on the leash of the golden retriever, pulling it away from you. "Sorry about that! Eru gets excited sometimes."

"Inoue," I acknowledged, with a nod. "Get that thing on a leash next time."

"It _is_ on a leash, idiot," you said, pushing yourself up from the grass.

Inoue giggled. She turned her head towards you. And then, with eyes wide and mouth carved into a perfectly shaped O, she yelled, "Rukia-chan!"

You snapped your head towards the owner of the dog. You whispered, "You remember me?"

Inoue knows Rukia?

※

She stood up, quick as a leaping bunny, and tugged on the woman's arm. Rukia pulled her away from Ichigo before repeating her question, "You remember me?" Her eyes were wide with disbelief and curiosity, like a small child with a new toy.

Orihime threw her arms around Rukia and squeezed her tight. "Of course I do, silly!" She giggled and her feet had a certain bounce in them. Orihime held her out in her outstretched arms and hugged her once more before calming down and smiled at her with a smile so bright it could almost outshine the sun.

"Where have you been, Rukia? It's been ages since I last saw you!"

_It felt so nice to be remembered,_ she thought. A rush of something that felt like molten caramel coursed through her body as she smiled at her friend. If a shinigami leaves earth, any memory of her would be forgotten, unless the other had been to Soul Society. Orihime had been to Soul Society. And no one had altered her memory with any modifiers.

"Rukia-chaaaan! Where were you for all these while?"

It _is _nice to be remembered.

"I had… something going on. It's been a while, Orihime."

"Oh, Rukia-chan, I missed you so, so much! Kurosaki-kun, you know, never answered me whenever I asked about you! He was as if he didn't know you! But now that you're here, it's okay now!"

She smiled sombrely up at her friend. And Orihime felt the tension emanated from her. Her smile faded slightly but her grip on Rukia still persisted.

"Rukia-chan?"

"Orihime, Ichigo _really_ doesn't know me anymore."

"Hu? What are you talking about? What happened?"

Rukia looked back at Ichigo who was intently watching her. She gestured at him that she'll meet him again at home. He was annoyingly persistent. _Like a bothersome mule, _Rukia wanted to add. Ichigo walked over to them and gave a look to Rukia. _What are you doing? Let's go home now,_ it said.

For a brief moment, she wanted to go back home with Ichigo; maybe have a chat with him in the living room, or maybe share that last chocolate pudding in the fridge, or maybe tell him about his previous life as a shinigami… his previous life where _she_ has a huge part in. Her heart was tugging her towards him. But her brain told her to stay with her best friend.

_First, why would he share that pudding? He'd grab it from you, tease you and finish the whole cup by himself,_ her reason started to say to her_. Secondly, he cannot remember his life as a shinigami— he's better off as a normal human anyway, don't you think so? See, you told it yourself. He became a doctor because he was a human. Why tell him now? He doesn't need to know. _

_He does _not _need to know._

They say follow your heart. But what if your brain is telling you things better than what your heart is telling you?

She followed her wits this time.

"I _said_ I'll meet you later at home, Ichigo," she said.

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"I want to talk with Orihime. Haven't seen her in ages, you know?" She twinkled her eyes and glanced at the auburn-haired girl beside them. After years of knowing him, she knew that trick was the only trick that could make him change his mind… though she was unsure whether it could still work or not.

He seemed hesitant. "Just… okay, fine. I'll see you."

"Thanks, Ichigo," she said wholeheartedly. That trick still worked. She called his name again and he looked back towards her. "And, um, you'll get your dinner tonight for this."

He grinned back at her and left the park.

—————

The pair walked towards a café nearby, December's Spring. It was a place that they had frequented to, and Rukia amusedly thought about today and its trips back to the Restaurants in Memory Lane. They sat outside of the café, under an open umbrella. After a waitress took their order, Orihime jumped straight to her curiosity.

"What's this about Kurosaki-kun not knowing you?"

She looked uncomfortable, touching the tips of her hair and said, "Emm, long story short, I had to erase his memories seven years ago."

Orihime, being herself, jumped and repeated, "Erase his memories?!" Rukia stood up and gestured for her to take her seat, shushing her. The bright-eyed woman whispered, "What? Why?"

"My brother. He didn't approve of me and Ichigo. So I had to…" She looked away. "I don't know why the hell I did it though. He had this look in his eyes… it said something like he had given me a better life compared to the one I had in Isuru. I don't know, I felt… guilty."

"But you two were so perfect together!"

She smiled wistfully at her friend and stirred her juice. The same words kept swirling again and again in her head. _A mistake. A big stupid mistake._ The healer seemed to sense her discomfort and clasped her hand in hers. A smile was given and returned, albeit hollowly.

"So what's going on between you two now?"

She told her about her assignment Ukitake gave her— about coming back here; she told her about how the hollow had almost maimed her through and through; about Ichigo helping her. "Now I'm kinda staying with him in his apartment." Orihime smiled meaningfully. "Orihime! Nothing like that! He hardly knows me anymore…"

"If so, then… who are you to him now?"

"A girl who freeloads in his house, bullying him relentlessly."

Orihime laughed. "Same as always I see?"

That cracked up a small grin from the petite woman. "As always." Each took a sip from their mango smoothie and grape juice. Rukia stirred hers and rubbed her face. Her own words haunted her in her mind. _He hardly knows me anymore…_ A mistake. A big stupid mistake.

Rukia snapped her head up at the other woman. "If Ichigo asks, tell him that I met you in Chiba. From… from vacationing."

"Chiba?"

"Yeah. I told him I was from Chiba."

"He… doesn't know you're a shinigami?"

Rukia shook her head. "Ichigo doesn't need to know. His powers were stripped off from him by nii-sama. He can't sense hollows, or see spirits anymore…" Rukia whispered quietly to herself.

There was silence as the two gathered their thoughts. Cars zoomed through the roads beside. A hundred different colours zipped past; metallic blue, gleaming silver, bright yellow. A brown sparrow perched on the fence near their seat. It tilted its head towards Rukia and flew off, into the forget-me-not blue sky. Her mango smoothie swirled and swirled with the movement of her straw…

"_You already had your tiramisu!"_

"_I want another one. Now gimme yours, Ichigo."_

"_No! This is mine. You gobbled yours in under three seconds. …_Don't_ give me that look! I'm not going to give it to you no matter what."_

"_Ichiiii…?"_

"_No."_

"_Pleaaase?"_

"_N— …No."_

"_I'll give you something in return when we get back home later."_

"… …_Alright, fine! Take it. I didn't want it anyway."_

"Rukia-chan?" Orihime called out, snapping her out from her reverie. She remembered that memory. It was right here when it happened and the two of them bickered about cake. She won. He won too, in a way.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still love Kurosaki-kun?"

She smiled at her. "Yes, of course I do. Very much."

She held her hands and her eyes glinted of what Rukia thought was persuasive confidence. "Then the two of you would be okay! Love will conquer all, you know?"

Rukia laughed. Trust Orihime to come up of a clichéd phrase to try to make her feel better. That's what Rukia loves about her. "I guess, Hime." That sparrow hopped by her feet pecking off crumbs on the ground. The sun was beating down upon them, and glinted something off her friend's finger. "What's…?"

"Oh!" With a grin, Hime showed it to her. A ring— simple white gold band, with just two amethyst decorating its circle. Rukia's eyes must have looked in askance for Orihime straightforwardly explained, "Uryuu and I are engaged." Rukia's eyes widened, but she hardly could say a word when Orihime said, "Look, look." Orihime pulled out the ring from her finger. _To my Princess, my heart, and my soul, always._

Rukia's eyes lighted up as she read the words engraved on the ring. "I cannot believe I missed this… I missed so much stuff from being away from this place! When? Where? How?"

She giggled. _It's good that Rukia-chan is out of her sad moment_, Hime thought. She sighed and cradled her head in her hands, propping them up the table with her elbows. "Five months ago at the sunflower field. He was so sweet and shy about it, but it'll give me the giggles if I recall."

Rukia smiled, genuinely happy for her friend. "I knew you two would be together someday. A Quincy and his Princess— perfect. Congratulations, Hime… even if I'm five months late." Orihime grinned at her friend and nodded her head. "So, any plans on a wedding?" Rukia winked at the blushing Orihime. She shook her head, her pink cheeks even more perceivable in the summer's day.

"Not yet, but someday— Ah! Rukia-chan! I had this most brilliant idea ever!" And just out of the blue, Orhime had gotten an idea. Always like that, always will. She held Rukia's hands in hers. "You can be my maid of honour during my wedding and I can be yours during your wedding with Kurosaki-kun!"

She laughed. "Of course. If there _is _wedding for me."

Orihime pouted. "Of course there will! Believe in it, Rukia-chan!" She held out a hand and stretched out her pinky finger. "Be my maid of honour and I'll be yours. Pinky promise?"

Rukia hooked her fingers with hers and nodded, grinning. "Pinky promise."

—————

Renji was worried.

He stared back at the darkening sky, with thoughts zipping past by his mind. Rukia was supposed to be back in Soul Society about two weeks ago. But as far as he could see, he couldn't catch hair nor hide, or even a speck of reiatsu of his childhood friend ever since Ukitake-taichou gave her that assignment. He had a hunch that she was with Ichigo back in Karakura, but the question is… why?

The reason she was there was exactly what worries Renji the most. Be it Kuchiki-taichou, or an appearance of another person, or maybe just Ichigo's own forgotten feelings, Rukia was going to get hurt no matter what, if this persisted.

And there was no way he wanted that to happen to his friend.

—————

"I'm home," Rukia called out.

"Welcome back," she heard him reply from the living room. He looked up as she entered the room and tilted his head somewhat in acknowledgement. As she sat on her usual spot, he rose from his. Rukia let her eyes stayed glued onto his figure until he left from the room.

Her heart skipped a beat. He'd just taken a bath, she noticed; his hair was damp and he smelled of that kiwi body wash he had in his bathroom. Even if he was only wearing a simple T-shirt and track pants, she thought he never looked more appealing in his life.

"_Do you still love Kurosaki-kun?"_

"_Yes, of course I do. Very much."_

"_Then the two of you would be okay! Love will conquer all, you know?"_

Would they? Would they _really_ be okay?

He came back with that last chocolate pudding in his hands.

Ichigo sat on his two-seater, offered her a spoon and patted the seat beside him.

"Wanna share?"

She started for a while, then smiled and accepted the spoon.

Maybe… just maybe the both of them would be all right.

—————

**A/N: **Next update will be on 2nd Jan, next year with a lil overture for IchiRuki XD

Just a little something, but since next year I'll be taking a major exam… updates possibly will be a bit rocky starting middle of January. Even if I have about half of the story on its last stages of writing; I just need some time to edit the chapter. And time isn't what I have in abundance next year ):

Anyway!

Reviews, constructive criticism, comments, are always welcome, cherished and much, much loved. 3


	5. Needing Home

**A/N:**More Rukia then Ichigo in this chappie… This and the next chapter was originally one chapter but I'd divided them into two, simply because is suuuper long XD Did not check it once more before posting, because it's 4AM, and I'm still not asleep yet DX

Enjoy!

V- Needing Home

"_Our memories are independent of our wills."_ -Richard Brinsley Sheridan

-

The summer's heat rayed in through the kitchen window, warming her hands even under the translucent flowing stream of water. Rukia told herself that she should've chosen paper instead of a scissors. Rukia lost at rock-paper-scissors and was stuck doing the dishes that late morning. She guessed it was convenient for him— Ichigo was almost late for his work today, telling her about some recurring dream he had. She had wanted to ask him what it was about, but he had already dashed off the door. Maybe she could ask him tonight.

Stacking the dishes on the rack to dry, she opened the windows and let the warmth caress her face, and the breeze kissed it. She absolutely loves the tranquillity she felt here in Karakura… it was as if nothing could break this feeling of serenity. This feeling was something that she would never experience back at the Kuchiki Household.

The sun, the breeze, the tranquillity of that summer's day compelled her to do _something_ today.

A sudden thought came to mind.

She walked towards his bedroom. She remembered his room back when he was eighteen, when Yuzu had a week out to a girls' camp— it was horrendous; with his desk filled with more pens and paper than the surface could withstand, an unmade bed and clothes littering all over, Kon sleeping _underneath_ it.

She opened the door to his room and looked around. There wasn't much to be cleaned— his bedroom was minimally furnished and clutter levels were pretty much under control. She's only been here once, and that was on the first day when he treated her wounds.

One thing's for sure, Rukia was just glad that his housekeeping skills had honed a substantial amount by now.

Rukia walked around the room, placing her eyes on every object. There was a small pile of clothes by the bathroom door; papers, pens and books were on his desk; a framed picture on the side of the table. It was a picture of his family back when he was eight.

She smiled poignantly at it. There was Isshin, Ichigo, the twins, and their mom; all smiling as if everything in the world was perfectly okay. The background showed a wintery park— the last winter Kurosaki Masaki ever went through. He told her that his mom drowned in the river. So that means he didn't even remember Grand Fisher? Placing the framed picture back at the table, she turned around and sat on his bed.

"_Oi, oi, oi! Who said you could sit on _my _bed, reading _my_ book? Get off, you!"_

"_Shut up, Ichigo. It's a cliffhanger. Now tell me where's book eight?"_

"_I told you, you can't sit on my bed! Get _off_ and get in your closet now, will you?"_

Rukia grinned. She wondered what would he say if he saw her bouncing on his bed now? She swung her legs across the bed, stopping only when she kicked something from underneath the bed.

"What's this…?" Rukia bent downwards and pulled out an open shoebox. The content of the box weren't old pairs of shoes, but pieces and scraps of paper, layered with grey clouds of dust— possibly they were something that was kept for safekeeping, but drowned under the waves of time. Receipts, old statements, pieces of a notebook— nothing special.

But what really caught her eye was a blue bit from a strip of photograph, seemed to be taken from an instant photo machine. She pulled the photo out from the layers of the overlooked papers.

It was a strip of four photographs.

The first showed Ichigo and a woman, looking away from the camera; Ichigo scowling towards the floor and the woman looking up at the starry background. They were probably adjusting their seats until the shutter had clicked.

She had sleek black hair with chestnut highlights that flowed elegantly across her small shoulders. Her eyes were round and hued with dark brown, much like the colour of oak. She skin was white with shades of soft pink colouring her cheeks, like sakura petals in winter.

She was beautiful.

The second photograph showed the two of them laughing at the camera. Their eyes were shut tight, in mid-laughter. It felt so real, their feelings, it was like she could almost hear him laugh. He looked truly happy in that picture… so happy that it almost hurt her.

The third showed her smiling at it. Her pink lips were curving up in a slight smile, her eyes slightly lidded, her fringe staying neatly behind her ears. Ichigo was glancing up at her, something unrecognisable behind his printed eyes.

The fourth showed Ichigo kissing her—

Rukia tore her eyes away from the photo, shutting her eyes tight. She gripped the paper, as her arms felt limp and dropped to her sides. She didn't want to see that. She did _not_. A mad rush of disappointment and anger flowed through her. Rukia released the breath that she was unconsciously holding and gripped that picture, crumpling it in her hands, wanting it to turn into tiny bite-sized pieces and disappear from the world in a breath.

His lips touched her cheek in playful mischievousness. Maybe she would have giggled, and maybe she would kiss him back. Maybe both of them had been together long, longer than he had been hers. Maybe they—

"Shut up…" Rukia whispered feebly to herself. Her knuckles had turned white as she sat on the floor, her knees suddenly weak. "Shut _up."_

Why should she be angry? She should have known this could have happened when she left him ages ago. He had that right to meet other people. _She_ left him— what right does that give _her_ to be angry at him? None.

But no matter how many times she said that, the image burned through her, making her feel more and more inferior from the inside out.

Her phone buzzed.

Hollow.

———————————

The hollow was huge— about three times bigger than the usual ones she saw here. Two razor-sharp horns were sprouting out from its mask; its black eyes showed absolutely nothing but pure darkness; its colossal arms were swinging back and forth as it plodded across the narrow streets in that mid-afternoon.

As Rukia appeared near, it roared with an animalistic cry so loud she was almost thrown back by the vibrations. Regaining mastery of herself, Rukia focused her eyes on the hollow. She pulled out Shirayuki and ran towards the thrashing hollow.

She jumped—

_He glanced at her, a thought coming, to mind._

_He kissed her._

—and fell.

The hollow had swatted her away like a bothersome black fly. It spotted a child soul hiding behind a telephone pole. Like nothing but a carnivore spotting its meal, it started to move towards its victim. The child yelped and ran off, her chains rattling noisily on her chest.

Rukia recovered. She absently brushed the dust from her face as she stood up. She spotted the girl and cursed herself. She's got to be quick. Rukia ran towards it—

_He tugged on her arm. She looked towards him. His lips briefly touched her skin as her lips curved up into a more sincere laugh. _

"_Ichi_go_," she berated, giggling._

The child screamed out loud.

The hollow was close— too close.

Rukia jumped out of her dazed state, and cursed herself. She ran towards it and slashed on whatever surface of the hollow that was close enough to feel Shirayuki. It roared, but it sounded more of aggravation instead of pain.

The wound wasn't severe enough to do much good. The hollow twisted around and clawed at her— she'd seen it coming, but didn't jump fast enough to evade. Its dirty white claws tore her uniform and the skin underneath it. Rukia cursed, and attacked it, slashing its bare back with Shirayuki.

The hollow roared in pain and turned around and faced her. Rukia looked up at it with nothing but pure hatred towards it. Her arm was throbbing with pain; blood had started to pour out, painting grotesque abstract art of red on the ground.

_He caressed her black hair, softly like she was a porcelain doll— she looked like one, he treated her like one._

Briefly Rukia pondered what Ichigo actually thought of her— definitely not a porcelain doll. Maybe a violent and demanding little she-devil?

Anger coursed through her rapidly, mocking her, taunting her. _He kissed her. His soft lips touching her skin. _Battles were not to be fought in anger— it was one of the most important rules of fighting. Anger makes you hasty; it makes you blind on the opponent's approaching action; it makes you swing everything to everyone, not caring who or what happened.

But anger filled her with energy, albeit a negative one, those essential energy that made her forget about her wounds and pain and just strike at it. Rukia yelled and slashed off the hollow's left arm. While it was trying to recover, Rukia jumped up and swooped down for the final blow.

The hollow disintegrated.

Her anger had not. She was breathing hard, trying to block images from coming into her head.

Maybe he whispers her name gently in her ear, on cold nightmare-filled nights.

Maybe he rubs this thumb against her cheek in a gentle caress, before his lips touch hers in a gentle kiss.

Maybe he wipes her tears for her, reassuring her, telling her that everything was going to be okay.

Maybe… maybe he loves that woman more that he loved her.

Rukia shut her eyes tight, her back pressed on the wall, Shirayuki lay beside her on the ground. Why is she angry? She couldn't get angry—everything wasn't his fault.

Everything else was forgotten— no hollows, no blood, no pain— only the image of that picture burns brilliantly in her head. The worst thing was she couldn't even find any bit in her heart to hold a grudge against him. Because she knew everything led back to her, her, her. Rukia cursed, breathing deeply to stop herself from doing something hasty.

"Nee-chan…?"

Rukia looked up. The soul child was right in front of her, her black locks flowing beneath her shoulders, her eyes were dark brown—like oak. In a glance, she had looked much like the woman in the picture, but her eyes held a certain childlike innocence that Rukia simply could not get irate to.

"Are you okay?"

She smiled up at the girl. She didn't look more than six years old. "I'm fine. I was just… a bit distracted."

The girl smiled at her and Rukia was pleasantly surprised when she gently put her arms around her neck and hugged her tight. "Thank you for saving me," her childlike voice travelled into her ears. Benignly, Rukia smiled.

"Alright, I think you should be going off now…" Rukia said, slowly standing up, taking Shirayuki with her good arm, wincing slightly. Her left was still dripping blood contrasting rapidly with the white Shirayuki on her side. The soul girl looked confused. The petite shinigami crouched down and touched her nose. "You're going Up. To Heaven," she said, pointing above.

Rukia touched the child's forehead with the hilt of her zanpakutou. She turned into a bright light, before transforming into a butterfly.

The butterfly flew up, to her new home.

Then Rukia, too, limped back home.

———————

**A/N: **So, checked my drafts for this story and I only have two more chapters that was pre-written. After that… I'm not too sure when I actually CAN write anymore. Maybe I'll sneak writing on weekends, but after the two chaps are uploaded, updates won't be much constant anymore… T_____T

**PS: **I'm so scared I made Ru-chan OOC here D: Did I?

**PPS: ** REVIEWS ARE LOVE! :D


	6. Wishful Thinking of a Lonely Soul

VI- Wishful Thinking of a Lonely Soul

"_Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us." _-Oscar Wilde

She let herself climb back into his closet, clutching the first aid kit in her hands.

That damned hollow had taken too much energy from her, hindering her from healing herself the conventional shinigami way. The effects were felt long after the fight had finished and now she was tired beyond words.

_That_ image ran through her mind again.

_Was_ it the hollow that had taken her energy?

She carelessly wrapped her arm with the bandage after slathering it with antiseptic. She didn't care whether what she did was medically right or wrong, she just wanted to lie down and sleep the pain away…

Rukia closed her too heavy eyelids…

…

… …

_He opened the door to my closet, in the middle of the night with a cake in his hands. _

"_Happy birthday, Rukia," he said. _

_I smiled despite being interrupted from reading my book. Oh, so he does remember. From the way he acted today, indifferent and aloof, I thought I did something wrong— not that I was going to apologize. _

"_We're…" I said, "…celebrating in the closet?"_

"_Kinda," he answered. "Kon's in Yuzu's room so I thought it'll be nice to get away from him tonight." He nudged my folded legs and glanced at the candles on the cake. "Make a wish."_

_I closed my eyes, made a wish, and blew the candles._

Unwillingly, her eyes opened again. She remembered what she wished for. For her and Ichigo to always be together. One could say she was diagnosed with lovesickness, but now, more than ever, she wished so much that her wish could come true…

_Wish you may, wish you might, tell the star your wish tonight…_

"I wish…"

※

"I'm home," I called out.

No reply.

"Rukia?" Opening my shoes, I looked about in the apartment. Everything seemed still— too still. Maybe you went out— I was home early today, about an hour earlier. Maybe you were still at the grocers.

It was odd, coming home to an empty apartment again. It was like the warmth of another person in here had just faded, leaving this place with nothing but the seclusion and chilliness of a deep underground cavern.

I hope you come back soon.

I shuffled to the living room, finding a copy of Hamlet on your usual one-seater. Hm, it looks like you've finished reading Julius Caesar recently. I sat on your place, lifting my feet up on the armrest, and I flipped open the book. Fatigue finally caught up with me, slowly eating me up, leaving my eyes heavier, and letting the words swirl all around me…

…

… …

_That girl was on my lap as I was caressing her soft locks. She was snoozing as I looked up into the sky. Was I waiting for something to happen?_

_Then a steak of light appeared. _

_And my arms moved on its own. "…," I called out that girl's name, nudging her. She looked blearily up at me. I pointed up to the sky. Meteor shower. She smiled sleepily. "Make a wish, you."_

_She shut her eyes, then nodded._

_She __shifted her head and laid it closer to my body, and wrapped her arms around my waist. I hardly minded her doing such an action. Why? I don't know that girl. But my limbs were moving on their own and I put my arms around her._

_I said to that girl, "What's the point of me bringing you here if you're not even gonna look at it, …?"_

"_I came here to make a wish, not to look at it, Ichigo."_

"_Sure, …, sure…"_

.

_.  
_

"_I am not letting go," I was saying to the girl. "Unless you tell me what's going on. What happened to you? You just suddenly ran off in the middle of the night and while it's raining! And when I ask you, you constantly say 'nothing'. How do you expect me not to worry, …, when you're not like you? You—"_

"_It's just— never mind, Ichigo."_

"_You have to tell me something, you know…"_

_She clutched my rain-drenched shirt and buried herself into me, putting her head on my chest. What was weird that it felt perfectly normal for her to react that way around me. I wrapped my arms around her and shushed her._

"…_I love you," she whispered. "You know that… right?"_

"_Idiot," I said, equally soft. "That wasn't what I meant by telling me something."_

_._

_.  
_

_She was leaving— that girl was leaving. Her eyes looked cold, but I still could feel something warm beneath the ice blocks. She didn't want to leave— but she was leaving._

"_Why?" I choked._

_She said nothing._

_She took out something cylindrical from her back pocket. There was a blinding light._

_And she left. _

I opened my eyes and sat up on the seat. Cold sweat plastered on my forehead and my breathing was hard and shallow as traces of the dream lingered in my thoughts. Not again.

It was that dream again, that same recurring dream that I've been having for the past few days. That girl had left. Whoever that girl was, she came to my mind one times too many to be something normal. This girl apparently had something going on with me. There were times where I was doing something absolutely ordinary, like eating breakfast or drifting off to sleep, before she would suddenly invade my mind, filling my mind with thoughts of me and her.

It was scary yet gripping in a way.

She had amethyst eyes, something that I had on the tip of my tongue… but can never place on who she was. She had soft hair, a feeling that seemed so familiar underneath my fingertips. And she says that she loves me…?

I glanced at the clock. 7:25pm.

Quickly I got up and looked around. Weren't you supposed to be back from the grocers by now? Shouldn't you be in front of this TV, singing to that theme song? _Chappy_ had ended an hour ago… and yet, where are you?

"Rukia? Are you back yet?"

Silence replied me.

I called out your name again, jogging towards the kitchen. Had you already finished watching and was now cooking dinner? My feet stepped onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. My hopes were crushed as I met with a deserted cooking area. My heart was thumping against my ribcage.

_She was leaving— that girl was leaving. Her eyes looked cold, but I still could feel something warm beneath the ice blocks. She didn't want to leave— but she was leaving._

Did Rukia leave?

The vacant feeling deep in the pits of my stomach felt more immense. I ran towards the bathroom, hoping to hear splashes of water, or faced with a locked door. Unlocked. I scurried off to other rooms because, by now even a brief glance of you could calm myself.

Nothing.

My heart was beating so loud, it was ringing in my ears so loud, but it felt as if it had dropped to the pits of my stomach.

Maybe… maybe you were at Inoue's— I'll call her to confirm. I went up to my room to reach for my phone. Opening the door, a small part of me was still hoping to see you asleep on my bed.

My bed was empty, still unmade from my frantic rush this morning. Where are you, Rukia? I spotted my phone on my desk. As I stepped into my room, there was an overpowering smell of antiseptic coming from somewhere in it.

The closet.

Slowly, I slid it open.

And I found your small figure curled up inside it, breathing lightly. I released a sigh of relief when I saw you. You were okay… you really were _okay_.

I heard you whimper. Upon closer inspection, I saw your left arm was bandaged shabbily. Your hair was unkempt. And there were stains of blood on your sleeve— something was terribly wrong.

"Rukia?" I touched your shoulder, taking care to not touch your injured arm. You stirred in your sleep, then carefully rolled over and face me.

"Ichi…go…?" Your eyes squinted to the light coming in and I saw your right arm cautiously cradling your wounded one. "What…?"

"Rukia, what happened to you? Did you wrap the bandage yourself?" From your lying position, you gave a small nod, eyes closed. "Can you get up? I think you'll need a re-wrap." You shook your head, and lulled back into semi-consciousness.

I cursed. "Rukia, don't sleep again. C'mon. Let's get you to the bed."

※

He gently pulled her out and carried her to his bed, keeping a distance from her injured arm. She was still drowsy but conscious enough to cherish that all-too-brief moment she had in the warm enclosure of his arms.

He worked in silence as he did the crucial part of healing her arm. Her eyes were lidded as she heavily willed herself to stay awake. This was the second time she had almost maimed herself for her carelessness, and the second time being under his care.

He glanced towards her. Their eyes met.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, still carefully slathering a sort of cream on her wound.

"Tired," she breathed.

"Rukia, what happened to you? Your wound looks…" He cursed.

_Hollows, Ichigo, do you remember them? _she wanted to say. Leaving that thought kept deep in her mind, she merely shook her head.

He clicked his tongue. "Look, Rukia, I need to know this. Something as bad as this can't be kept up."

_I can't tell you, Ichigo. Not anymore. _

Another shake of her head.

"Rukia…! Talk. What happened?"

She was getting more and more irritated. He grasped her shoulder, albeit gently. "Rukia, t—"

"I'll _HEAL,_ okay Ichigo? Just stop asking that!"

He let go of her, as if she had suddenly sprouted thorns all over her body. Rukia let herself fall back on the pillow. Why did she lash out on him like that? What was _wrong _with her today?

_That woman probably wouldn't yell out at him like that._

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I'm just… tired. I'll… tell you another time."

He gave a look at her and, after a while, smiled benignly at her. "Sleep then, Rukia," he whispered to her, continuing his previous work. She nodded before sleep consumed her like a night light.

She woke up much later to see Ichigo on his desk, staring at a piece of paper in his hands.

The photograph.

Rukia sat up slowly in the bed cradling her arm; it felt so much better now. She didn't know whether it was the sleep or him that cured her. Maybe it was a bit of both? She called out his name, "Ichigo?"

He slowly turned his head towards her. "Hey, Rukia. Feeling better?"

She nodded.

"That's good to hear," he almost whispered, distractedly smiling at her. For a while she thought he was going to walk over to the bed and put his arms around her. Ichigo's attention was back to the photograph. Rukia let her eyes stray to the bedcovers for a moment. She should've guessed not. She gathered her thoughts before speaking up,

"Who— who's that in the picture… Ichigo?"

He looked distracted when he looked at her. "Huh? Oh, this…" Ichigo glanced at the photo again and to Rukia's surprise… he tore it. "No one, Rukia. Just… go back to sleep."

He shredded the picture again in his hands. The one strip of photo had become a million tiny bite sized pieces— exactly what Rukia had wanted for it to happen just that afternoon. But satisfaction didn't fill her, like how she thought she should feel, instead a feeling of bewilderment ate her up.

Her drowsiness had vanished after witnessing his previous action. "Ichigo, who's that?" She hoped her voice sounded considerate, not filled with curiosity and incomprehension, like what she really felt.

He dumped the shreds into his wastepaper basket. "Haruki," he said, as if that word made all the sense in the world. Her eyes must've shown the questions that she wanted to ask for Ichigo explained, "She's my girlfriend. _Was_ my girlfriend."

_Was?_ That was a revelation she didn't expect. "What happened?"

He said nothing for a while, staring outside the window facing his study desk. "We were… always fighting. I don't know… everything I did seemed not right in her eyes, and vice versa. Though, we always made up. But there was this one which really blew up. So then, after two years … we're just… done."

She breathed her reply. There was nothing that she thought could be said to help him. He was still staring out the window, his hand rubbing his face in unease. From the way he'd acted, Rukia thought… maybe he really _did_ love her, Haruki.

"Did you… do you love her, Ichigo?" she asked quietly. Rukia pulled the blanket to her chin with her right arm, subconsciously creating a barrier between him and her. She didn't know if she wanted to know the answer to this.

Ichigo shook his head. "… I don't know. I thought I did. I was wrong, I guess. Anyway, she's married now. Nothing I can do anyhow." Ichigo walked over to her and reached his hand out… …and pulled back. Slowly he brought his hand to his side and closed his hands into a loose fist. He bit his lower lip and said, "Get some rest, Rukia. I'll buy us bento from the shop."

Rukia sat on the bed, staring at his figure. She wanted to pull him down and put her arms around him, she wanted to stroke that unruly mess of orange hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, she wanted see him grin back at her and hear a snarky comment from him.

She wanted to…

He went out the door and closed it behind him.

…but there were some things in life you can never get.

※

You were already asleep again when I returned. You looked so content that I didn't have the heart to wake you, so I sat on the floor beside you as I watched you sleep. The bento laid beside me, forgotten momentarily.

My mind reeled back to this afternoon. I didn't know why, but I felt this empty feeling when I didn't see you this evening. I felt like I've experienced it before— that feeling of despondency and insecurity. It was as if the memory of my mom leaving me had come back to haunt me… but this was different, so much different. It felt exactly like when that girl left me in my dreams; fumbling in the dark and struggling to reach out to that girl at the shrinking light at the end of that tunnel.

That feeling… I never want to experience it anymore.

You turned in your sleep. I shuffled nearer and let my eyes lay on your sleeping figure for a while. Your skin was like the paled colour of a summer's peach. Your eyelashes were curling upwards against your closed eyes. I hooked that strand of hair behind your ears, letting my fingers linger on your smooth skin. Your lips were slightly parted in mid-dream as I caressed your hair— soft, so soft.

I pulled away suddenly.

Was it okay for me to touch you in your sleep like this?

I placed my head on the bed, our faces just inches apart. I could feel your calm breaths against my face as you continued your slumber. From this angle, you reminded me of Haruki, in a way… but your presence gave me an effect much, much stronger than that I felt for Haruki. I sat up and sighed. Even though we fight continuously, I somehow knew that we didn't even need to apologize for it. The offence never lingered long enough in my mind to even have to think of an apology.

I placed my hand over yours and I kissed you briefly on the forehead.

Suddenly I knew I never wanted you to leave.


	7. Nonsense Thoughts

VII- Nonsense Thoughts

"_Memories are hunting horns whose sound dies on the wind." -_Guillaume Apollinaire

"Hey, Ichigo," you looked up from your dinner and straight to me. I took a drink of water and raised my eyebrows in askance. You lapsed into slight silence then spoke up, "When's your first kiss?"

The water spurted out from my mouth in a mist of tiny droplets.

Ignoring my severe coughs, you did nothing but glared at me, then glanced at the small puddle of water on the floor beside my chair. "You're cleaning that up later, Kurosaki."

Regaining mastery of my lungs, I spoke up, "Wh— _cough_— why are you asking, anyways?"

You shrugged and took another bite of broccoli. You smirked up at me. "Curious. Why? Haven't you experienced it yet?"

I glared back at you but stayed silent. No way was I telling.

You chewed your broccoli and prodded your fish with your fork. "Mine was at… um, 15…" you said. I didn't even ask, Rukia, I wanted to say, but thought better of it. I don't think my head would want a bruise this time of night.

"He's… an idiot actually. It was crazy, unplanned, and spontaneous. Every event before felt disconnected but it led to that actually… I found a white rabbit, as white as the snow that was falling upon us at that time. It was running towards the forest…"

For that moment, whatever comeback and insults I had thought up off had vanished from my mind. Why does this so sound familiar? My arms lowered to the table and stayed there— dinner was temporarily forgotten.

"…we followed it. Well, _I _did, but I pulled y— him along. Reaching the forest, the rabbit was gone, lost in one of the shrubs there. I was searching for it, but he was just standing there, giving some sort of idiotic comment towards me." You looked up at me and gave a small smile. "I told you he was an idiot."

_It was nearing six thirty pm… and the sun was already setting against the cold winter's sky, licking the previously grey sky with indigo and pink. _

_I told that girl about how rabbits had burrows everywhere. It probably had gone inside in it anyway. The girl stood up, defiant, with hands on her waist. "It couldn't have gone! It was just here a moment ago!"_

_I rolled my eyes. Of course it is, idiot._

_I sat myself on the cold ground, my back towards a tree. _

"…and he'd just sat there for what seemed like ages! Did I mention he was _sooo_ helpful too?" You took a bite of your dinner, chewing slowly, remembering your past. I was too distracted to eat now.

"And then," you said. "I flopped down beside him. And I was just… frustrated, I guess. The rabbit was gone. Then he nudged my side, and pointed to the setting sun. For that while, I forgot about the rabbit. And we just watched the sunset together, up on that hill.

"Then, all of a sudden, he said to me, 'You have snow on your hair.' And then…"

_And then I kissed her._

You stopped.

"Well, never mind with that." You stood up. I grabbed you by the arm and looked deep into your eyes. But you pulled away from me and headed towards the sink. "I'm done with dinner. You wash up your part. I'll just wash mine, okay?" you said, your eyes still avoiding mine.

"Rukia, wait…"

Without another word, you left the kitchen.

※

She collapsed on the two-seater, cursing herself. Why was she remembering all those moments with him— no, more accurately, why was she _telling_ him?

Rukia rubbed her face and turned on the TV. The idiot box showed a scene between a mother and child. Rukia didn't recognise the drama series, yet let her eyes stray upon its story. She has got to control her mouth. She thumped her fist on her shoulder and cursed. Those three hollows had really tested her today. She hated it when there were multiple attacks— even more when she's battling alone.

"_When you erase his memories about you… everything related to you; every moment, every word, everything, will be erased along with his memory," Urahara explained to me as I went back to the shop today. "Nothing will be left. Maybe he would have a bit of déjà vu feeling once in a while… but nothing more." _

_I stared at the tea left inside my cup— one twig was floating in the middle._

_Wasn't that good luck?_

"_Is there a way to undo that memory modifier's effects?"_

"_None yet, Kuchiki-san. I've tried to make one… it didn't go as planned. The test subject forgot everything about _him_self in an instant. The poor fellow. The human brain is a complicated thing. I still haven't figured out that missing link yet to make something to help you out with this."_

"_I see," I breathed. _

_The twig was just a twig, nothing more. There was no good luck._

"Need help with that?" Ichigo's voice resounded in her ears. Rukia opened her eyes and saw him sitting beside her on the sofa. Without even waiting for a reply, he reached out for her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"What… are you doing, Ichigo?"

He shrugged, before applying pressure on her shoulders. "Massaging you." Rukia's eyes widened at the pressure, before closing her eyes in satisfaction. It felt so much better when he was doing it. "You look like you needed it. Wait." Ichigo stood up on the sofa, and sat himself on the armrest. "It's easier this way. Closer, you."

Rukia repositioned herself, her back towards him as he continued his previous actions. Ichigo's attentions were to the blaring TV and he spoke up, "What's this you were watching? Change the channel, Rukia." His hands felt calloused— but it was a touch she was so familiar with. A touch that had once ran all over her, caressing her with loving tenderness.

She shut her eyes and placed that memory at the back of her mind.

She changed the channel to the sports channel.

He shifted his hands from her shoulders to her neck, massaging it with care even if his view was to the soccer match report. "Hey," he distractedly said, "If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop."

Rukia nodded her head. His thumb was rubbing circles at the nape of her neck. When was the last time they were this close before? His left hand was making upward strokes along her neck then they were back to her shoulders.

_He kissed her bare shoulders, then dropping sweet kisses towards her neck. She hummed, her eyes fluttering close. He tugged on her shirt, slipping the neckline down her shoulder, his fingers lightly touching the skin. _

_He kissed her lips, his hands were drawing circles on her neck, just the way she likes it—_

She pulled away from his hands, snapping her head away from him, staring at the beige fabric of the sofa. _Anything but that memory,_ she told herself. _Please… anything else but that._ Rukia swallowed then turned around to face the TV screen.

Ichigo stared at her for a moment in brief shock. "Did I hurt you?" He looked so concerned that she thought she might just throw herself into his arms.

She shook her head. "It's… enough. Thanks."

He looked at her in askance, she could feel it, but Rukia ignored that look. She heard him say something, but she willed herself not to look at him. Rukia let herself focus on the recap of the football match on the TV screen. He was silent for a moment… then he slid himself down the armrest, his knee just barely touching hers. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes tight. _Enough. Forget that memory. Forget it now, Rukia._

_

* * *

_

The moonlight shed just enough luminosity for the koi to be seen glittering inside the pond. He watched silently as the fishes in the pool flit by his vision of view. He did not see the man as he humbly shifted into his presence. The man bowed but he did not look back. He did nothing but ask, "How long has she been there?"

"Nearly a month, sir. Would you like me to ask someone to fetch her back?"

"Not yet, Toshio. We'll wait and see what happens."

"As you wish, Kuchiki-sama."

The koi jumped out of the water, and fell back in without so much as a splash.

* * *

"You sleepy?"

Rukia snapped her head towards him and involuntarily uttered, "Hm? What?"

He tilted his head and repeated, "Are you sleepy? I'm planning to watch a horror movie tonight at 11. If you're sleepy, you can go up to my room— I'll sleep here." His attention was back at the TV screen when he muttered, "A sleep deprived Rukia is like a horror movie itself."

Rukia glared at him and punched him on the shoulder. "Idiot," she muttered. "And, no, I'm not sleepy. I want to watch it."

"Huh." He shrugged. "As long as you don't crawl into my bed late at night, whimpering about how you can't sleep, then sure, watch it."

She flared red and slapped his head. "IDIOT." Rukia said that word loud, hoping that he wouldn't notice her change of colour. His eyebrows rose and a smirk slowly crept into his face. Rukia unconsciously touched her face and went, "What…?"

"You blushed," he pointed out, touching her cheeks; a chuckle dangerously bordering his words. Rukia slapped his hands away, pulled her legs up the sofa and aimed her feet to his left thigh. She kicked, hard. "I made you blus— OOF! OW!" Ichigo brought his left leg up and cradled it in his arms. His vision blurred as his amber eyes watered. Gritting his teeth, the young man fought to catch his breath.

He cursed at her.

"Hah," Rukia breathed. "There you go." Satisfied at the reaction, Rukia gave an exultant grin and laughed at his pitiful sight. "Never irritate me, Ichigo. I told you that, didn't I?"

※

_She was leaving— that girl was leaving. Her eyes looked cold, but I still could feel something warm beneath the ice blocks. She didn't want to leave— but she was leaving._

_She took out something cylindrical from her back pocket. There was a blinding light._

_And she left. _

_She left._

_She was gone._

_She left, leaving me alone in this deep dark place, floundering, flailing, reaching out to her shrinking form. _

I woke up.

I shut my eyes again, my hand on my forehead, massaging it. That last image had been popping in and out of my head too many times. And often it left this empty feeling in my chest.

My heart was still beating manically behind my ribcage, and I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My breaths were hard and my head was spinning. _Rukia_, my mind said to me. _Rukia, Rukia, Rukia._

I ripped my blanket away from my body and jumped down the bed. I ran down the hallway and headed towards the living room, all the while my heart beating like a madman.

_Rukia, Rukia, Rukia…_

I reached the living room and I saw your elfin figure curled up on the sofa-bed. At this moment, my legs felt like it was made of lead, but slowly I marched towards you. The room was bathed with silence, other than my and your breathing. I don't know what came over me but I knelt on the floor, to your level and just… _looked _at you for a moment

_Rukia, Rukia, Rukia…_

I reached out and with slight hesitation, I touched your cheek with the tips of my fingers. Maybe you were a light sleeper for your eyes fluttered open and I found my heart skipping a beat as I stared into your liquid indigo eyes. You sat up and rubbed those eyes; your soft black hair was alive and was writhing with static.

"Ichigo…?" your sleepy voice travelled towards me. "Is the movie… over?" You looked around the darkish room, blinking.

I didn't know what it was, but it felt like a sudden attraction, like magnets of different poles coming too close together. Maybe it was exactly that which took over me then; I reached out and pulled you towards me. I wrapped my arms around you and shut my eyes. Instantly I felt warmth spread all over me, and that empty feeling suddenly felt like it was never there.

I felt you stiffen with surprise for a moment, before you relaxed into my hold. You laid your head on my shoulder and momentarily I thought I heard you sigh. Falteringly, I held up my hand and stroked your head. You didn't comment, nor pull away, but I felt you loosened up even more.

My heart had stopped thumping madly… all I felt was the calm stillness of tranquillity in my head.

※

The next thing he knew, he was kissing her.

The next thing she knew, she was kissing him back.

The next thing she remembered was the kiss they had on that winter's day after searching for the elusive rabbit.

She missed him.

She realized on just_ how much_ she missed him.

"Ichigo…"

※

Your voice startled me and I let go of you at once. I saw you stiffen at the shock and I saw your eyes searching me with questions. I averted my gaze away from you as I muttered an apology. "S-sorry. I didn't…" I got up from my seat. "Just… never mind. Sorry to… you know."

As I was about to leave, you grasped my arm and looked at me with an incomprehensible expression. Your brows were creased with affront, your fingers were closing over my wrist, like you don't want to let go and your violet eyes were bordering with so many questions with I'd almost wanted to pull you with me so I can feel that calm stillness in my chest again. A part of my brain told me to stay here and reassure you, but I willed myself to go. _Move…!_

With a slight shake of my head, I left the living room, not looking back.

I closed the door to my room and slid down to the floor. I'm totally confused right now. What…? Why…? Who…? There're too many questions in my head. That woman— the woman in those images… was it? It… couldn't be, can it? It's not possible! I'd just met you just past a month ago.

The recurring images, the soft silky hair, those piercing violet eyes… and, just this evening, that rabbit story…?

I massaged my head with my hands— everything felt like it's been pulled upside down, shaken, stirred, and mixed into a big mixer. It didn't make sense, did it?

But… _was_ it you, Rukia?

"_You have snow on your hair."_

_And then I kissed her._

How does someone ask a question as _absurd_ as that?


	8. Falling Deep into The Flower Field

**A/N:** Am in a good mood~ So updating this now, instead of my initial plan of posting it next week XD Nyaaa~ Enjoy!

**VIII- Falling Deep into the Flower Field**

"_Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." -_Jean de Boufflers

The morning sun streamed through the window, softly caressing her perfectly curved face. The wind whispered secrets to the trees outside and the birds were flapping their wings, about to take off to the clear azure sky, with nothing but the pure white clouds as companions.

Rukia laid her head on her folded arms and her arms lie comfortably on his bed. Nothing but contentment in her mind as she faced him, still cruising Dreamland. His scowling eyebrows were unknotted and his breaths were rhythmic and even. She smiled softly at herself as she traced the angular curvature of his face, with nothing but a stray though buzzing in her mind. She loved his sleeping face— always did.

Erasing his memories was the most painful thing she had ever done. Call it guilt or plain stupidity, there wasn't a day that passed by where Rukia didn't regret doing that.

But now, facing him with such familiarity, there wasn't a day that passed by where Rukia didn't feel thankful that she had met him again. That summer's night was a major turnaround for her. Sometimes, there were certain days where Rukia thought this was all a huge dream, or maybe a cruel illusion given by Fate to deceive her.

Maybe it was… maybe it wasn't.

* * *

They went out yesterday—Rukia briefly assumed that was a date, but dismissed that thought instantly. After all, his tone was nonchalant when he said, "Let's go out tomorrow."

After lunch (and a long battle of kicking zombie ass in House of Dead together—which he won without a contest), he brought her up a place they both knew so much about. It was the same place they shared their first kiss.

She repositioned herself as the flashback to yesterday's conversation drift towards her mind.

"_Y'know," he said, his eyes locked straight to the setting sun in front of us. "I've never shown this place to anyone._

_I was silent for a moment after nodding as a response, debating whether I should ask one question that was hanging in my head. I felt him move closer to me and at that moment any hesitations just fled away._

"_What about Haruki…?"_

_He glanced at me. He was so close; I had to look up at him to see his chocolate brown eyes. "Never," he mumbled distractedly. His hand rose and touched my hair. And I really thought I'd turned deep red._

"_You have a leaf on your hair, Rukia," he whispered. Like that time, ten years ago._

_And exactly like that time…he kissed me._

* * *

Ichigo mumbled in his sleep, something incomprehensible.

Was that just an illusion? Or was it just a temporary dream? Maybe wishful thinking?

But on certain days like this, she thought that she didn't care if it was a dream or if she was but a mere toy in the hands of Fate. Because on days like this, it felt like Time had stopped, just for them. And she was just glad to be able to relish in the moment.

Her fingers stopped at the tips of his messy hair. Her heart at ease, her mind calm and serene, and her lips forming the smallest and the truest of smiles. And only he can do that to her.

Only Ichigo.

She blew on his face. "Ichigo…" Rukia said softly. "Wake up, idiot."

His face scrunched and he swatted air blindly, pulling the covers from his waist to over his shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent again and turned in his sleep. Rukia smiled at his antics and raised her head. _Let him sleep,_ she thought. He was doing a late night shift again last night, after he received a call from the hospital after their… date. Rukia knew he only came home at four am. He should be dead asleep now, like a log infused with sleeping gas. _Let him sleep, _she repeated. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, spoken softly like conveying a clandestine message.

"Sweet dreams, Ichigo."

* * *

He didn't say much, but by his tone, Renji knew that his taichou wanted this job done urgent.

"I need you to fetch Rukia back."

He nodded.

Without another word, Renji jumped out of view and headed off to Earth.

* * *

※

_Gone out to buy groceries. Will be back in half an hour, at 5:40. –Rukia. _

I pulled out the post it note from the fridge. I think she must have known that the first spot I'll go to was the kitchen after my refreshing eleven-hour sleep. I glanced at the clock—5:20pm.

She'll be back in twenty.

Why did that put a smile on my face?

※

She swung her bag of groceries in her outstretched arms. She was smiling from ear to ear ever since just now. Even the obaa-san from the grocery store commented on her unconscious happiness.

That idiot.

This is all his fault.

Love was like a… flower field, she thought suddenly— bright, compelling and it filled all her senses with nothing but pure delight. It takes time when each flower blooms slowly, taking each day into account, taking each of the elements in suitable proportion. Even if it withers during winter, she can always know that spring will always return.

Rukia was falling deep into her field.

She was thinking of dinner when she felt something like an increase in the atmosphere pressure around her. Her heart seemed to stop briefly and the smile disappeared instantly from her face. A swoop of black appeared in front of her.

She stopped dead in her tracks and only one word whispered against her lips.

"Renji…?"

* * *

**A/N:** How come I have a feeling that the next chapter is going to be hard to write…? :O


	9. Allowing Herself to Forget

**A/N: 1) **Let me just say that I was _so_ tempted to go on an indefinite hiatus and I almost wrote that up on my profile and all. But I just cannot leave this hanging like this, especially knowing that I actually have drafted the full story for this. And I've started reading fanfics again, and I couldn't bear the thought of a fic that I'm reading just got left behind like that. So.

And honestly, idk if there are still readers to this, heh. But if there are, I sincerely, _sincerely_ apologize for the really late update. If I start explaining why, it's gonna take PAGES. No more promises, especially those I can't keep. I just want to say I'm sorry for the super lateness ):

Enjoy, though :)

*sets up fort for hate attack later*

* * *

**X- Allowing Herself to Forget**

_Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember_. ~Seneca

How many different conversation had he played with himself as he came his way here? _Thousands;_ with a thousand different branches, leading to a thousand more conversations (Would he call this a _conversation_ though?) and finally with ending with a thousand of different endings.

But no matter what ending his mind may have concocted, all of them started with this sentence, shouted at him with raw fury burning her face:

"I am not going back!"

She had thrown him the vine, he needed to choose a branch to land on next. Metaphors, Renji wasn't very good at those. He was good at following orders, however. His calm tone surprised himself, in truth, when he crossed his arms, looked directly into her eyes, and said,

"This is Taichou's orders, Rukia."

She was not going to follow the tide; her anger had already broken loose from her icy confinement. That same ice room she had kept her emotions locked in for seven years. She yelled at him, call him names—nothing Renji couldn't handle. He tried to reason with her, tried to calm her down. He used the soothing voice he's heard Unohana used to her patients.

Rukia snapped.

"Can't you see that I'm _happy_ here, Renji? I feel much better living here than… than _there!_"

But _that_: now she was spewing nonsense.

"Each morning, I put on a plastic smile to the servants. I act and lie throughout my whole day, especially to nii-sama. I tried to do my best, but I feel suffocated, Renji! Everyone's looking at me like they're analysing me; watching me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake.

"I can do whatever I want here. Eat whatever that I cook, sleep whenever I wish, run,

I can laugh, cry like a normal person here. _I can love here_… I love him.

"Please, Renji, I ask you as a friend. Let me stay here… please."

Screw trying to calm her down. Whatever psychology method he was attempting to use is now out of the window.

"You feel like this because it all seems _new_ to you, don't you know that?" Whatever state of calm has now evaporated into thin air. The evening sky now crackled with tension.

"You say you love him, but _he_ doesn't love _you_, Rukia. He _can't_ love you. He's already forgotten about you, Rukia. You left him for seven years. Seven _years_. Feelings towards you should have faded. And when you'd suddenly appeared, it's only been months. The time difference is too great: Seven years and a few months. Ichigo couldn't have loved you. Just come back to Soul Society. I'm telling you _as a friend_— I don't want to see you hurt."

"Shut up, Renji!" she shrieked, her hands balled up into tiny fists. She struck him on his chest, neither weakly nor lightly. "I'm not leaving this place again…! I'm not leaving him again."

"Ask him, why don't you?" Renji replied with an air of indifference, his eyes boring into hers. "Ask him if he loves you."

※

Something was wrong.

_Obviously_.

Something was wrong ever since you got back from your outing. You were so distant towards me, so deathly cold. You came home, dumped the groceries in the kitchen with a blank stare in your amethyst eyes. You moved haggardly, like your feet were made of five tons of brick. When I asked, you shrugged me off. This doesn't seem like the usual PMS state, this seems more innate than that, cuts deeper, more painful.

_Rukia, what's wrong?_

I had to give you space and you seemed to appreciate that. But now, tonight, as I was watching a sitcom on TV, you crept into the living room and curled yourself next to me. I froze for a moment; _this isn't like you, Rukia_. But then I thought, for half the day, you haven't been like yourself.

"Rukia?" I called out, anxious. You weren't the type to hurl your emotions around— in fact you can hide them pretty well. I was unsure on what to do. "Are… are you okay?" I ventured. My left hand reached out and touched your tiny shoulder.

You clutched to my shirt but said nothing. Your mouth was pressed against my shoulder… are you crying? No, no, you weren't. I pressed my lips together and cradled your body against mine, rocking your body rhythmically.I shushed you softly and stroked your head.

"Ichigo…" you whispered, once you had composed yourself. I turned to look at you— your eyes bright and determined in the low light. "Ichigo," you repeated. "Do you love me?"

I raised my eyebrows involuntarily. "What…?" Gently pushing you away, I whispered your name. I don't think that my tone indicated that the answer was a positive one. "I like you, Rukia. Really, I do. But… you know…" At the last sentence, my voice grew softer and softer gradually. "Love?"

You waned visibly. Your lips curved into a bitter smile and you nodded curtly. "I understand." Knees shaking, you stood up. "I understand," you repeated.

※

"_He can't love you."_

"…_already forgotten about you."_

"_He doesn't love you."_

She took a step away from him. "Rukia…?" Ichigo voiced out. She didn't face him and took another step. And another, and another… Ichigo stood up and clutched her wrist. "What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't answer him, didn't face him.

"Rukia! Answer me, dammit!"

"I'm going back home— to Soul Society."

His eyebrows knotted in slight confusion. His hold on her wrist had loosened and Rukia slowly pulled away. "Soul Society? What? I thought Chiba was—"

"That was a lie, Ichigo." Her tone had hardened; she was trying to compose herself. She had broken down in front of him— something that she rarely does— and now she's not going to do it again. "Everything I said about myself was a lie."

He was silent for a brief moment. Taking her wrist in his hand again he tried to ask, "Is this because that I—"

"IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF THAT!"

And just like one of those times, he let go abruptly. He would always let go, like letting go of a pot that was much too hot for comfort. She seemed to regret raising her voice for her next words were spoken softly, barely a whisper. "I can't stay here… I can't."

"Why? Just because I couldn't tell you that I love you? It's hardly been six months! Do you want me to say that, just so you can stay? That's a lie, Rukia. And I'm not willing to tell you one—not now. Or do you still want me to say it? That I love you, even though I don't? _I love you!_ Goddammit, now will you just tell me what's wrong?"

Her usually bright violet eyes turned pale. There was a mixture of hurt and disappointment in them, Ichigo noticed. She couldn't bring herself to look up, nor to control her tears anymore. The crystal droplets fell from her eyes and fell noiselessly to the tiled floor.

"_He can't love you."_

"_He doesn't love you."_

She was crying silently in front of him and he felt terrible that he caused it. He cursed. He was too harsh. But what was he to do? Her fists were clutching the hem of her dress so tightly, her knuckles were white. "Rukia… don't… don't do this," he pleaded, reaching out for her. She swiftly moved out of the way.

Her eyes were burning with fire. "And what about those… times, Ichigo?" His furrowed eyebrows indicated incomprehension. And her voice rose, "The fact that you took me in without a question? That time when you brought me to Natsu no Kioku? The fact that you showed me that place? The place that you showed _no one_ before? Not even Haruki! The fact that you kissed me? The fact that you _made me fall in love with you again_?"

He didn't know what was wrong with him, but anger bubbled from inside of him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his frantically beating heart. This wasn't fucking fair or her! To accuse him of doing those things! Does she even know what she's spewing?

"What attracted me to you wasn't _love,_ Rukia," he spat that word as if it was a disgusting, "Hell, I'd just met you; barely six months ago, even! What attracted me to you was _curiosity_, if you wanted to know so badly." He couldn't stop himself. Not even when he saw the colour drain in her face, her mouth open, her _eyes_. He couldn't stop himself, and by god, he was going to shoot himself later.

"I knew you had something to do with me before— I had these images flitting over and over again in my head. I knew you had something to do with me, and _that's_ what I wanted to know. It was not fucking _love_, Rukia!"

And that was it.

The final blow.

His energy has now seeped out, and left him an empty shell, disappointed by his own filthy words. He can now absorb the shattering disappointment and the irreparable regret in her face.

She was silent.

_Shit. "_Rukia," he started, "It's not— I mean—"

"Do you want to know?" she quipped, her voice low and emotionless. He blinked, untrusting himself to speak. "Do you want to know, Ichigo," she repeated, her eyes wet and glimmering. "…About _us_?"

_Us?_

"I'm a shinigami," she announced.

How twisted life sometimes is. Ten years ago, she introduced herself as "It's not 'shinigami'. It's Kuchiki Rukia," and today it was the complete opposite. Don't call her by her name. Call her by her profession. It was as if she was saying, "I'm not Kuchiki Rukia."

In a way, she didn't know who she really was anymore…

"I help lost souls go to what you humans call 'Heaven'. I slay hollows— souls who are, briefly said, 'heartless'." He looked incredulous; his eyebrows were creased with disbelief, his mouth was slightly open, as if he was about to state a disagreement. She noticed his expression. But she went on,

"_You _were a shinigami once. Ten years ago, we met, here in Karakura. Your family was in danger— a hollow attack. I had wanted to give you a part of my powers to help, but for some reason you took everything.

"The transferring of power was illegal. I was to be executed. But you saved me, alongside Chad, Orihime, Ishida, and Renji." Ichigo looked like he wanted to ask a question, but he let it pass as Rukia continued, "Two years after that, I was ordered by my brother to leave you because I developed… feelings for you." Rukia hardened her voice; she _must not_ break. Her knuckles were still white.

"Shinigamis don't need feelings. I erased your memories and I left.

"Now, seven years later I'm here, being pulled back again to this world. I knew it was a bad idea to stay, I knew it. But it's just… I love you, Ichigo. I am so madly in love with you that I made the wrong decision and stayed here. I'm not supposed to be here. I can't be here. Shinigamis and humans aren't allowed to be together.

"But you don't remember any of this, do you? None of this ever happened to you, right?" His expression was nothing but incredulous. She laughed a bitter laugh. "You must think I'm crazy, huh? Spouting all these nonsense stuff about souls and shinigamis. Whatever you think right now, Ichigo, this is all true. It happened… once upon a time." She looked at him from top to toe, as if trying to etch his image in her mind. She smiled at him once more before one final teardrop fell from her eyes.

"And it's my fault for ripping those memories off you."

"Rukia," he started. She cringed; she couldn't stand hearing her name on his lips.

"It was curiosity wasn't it?" her voice, so ice cold. "Good, now you know. And I'm not needed here anymore.

"Goodbye, Ichigo."

And then she was gone.

**A/N:** I'm not sure if my fort is strong enough. Eeep!


	10. Breaking Promises

**A/N: **1)No more promises. I'm terrible at keeping them. ):

2) Yes, I was ChibiKitty 14. I've changed my penname, because, well, the last one sounded like the thirteen-year-old me. I've ~"matured"~ (Lies, fairytales and fallacies, that was. Hahaha)

3) This was my challenge for myself for NaNoWriMo; to complete at least this one chapter and update. I MADE IT!

4) Rusty literary brain = rusty sentences. Do forgive ):

* * *

**X- Breaking Promises**

_"You can erase someone from your mind. __Getting them out of your heart is another story." _–Unknown

* * *

It was impossible.

Everything she did, everything she said, everything she _saw_;he was there in her mind. So close, so tangible. With those piercing brown eyes and that striking orange hair. She couldn't believe how weak-willed she is! How easy it is for her emotions to eat her up, raw and unforgiving.

Is this love?

"_What attracted me to you wasn't love, Rukia,"_

"_What attracted me to you was _curiosity_, if you wanted to know so badly."_

"_It was not fucking _love_, Rukia!"_

No, it isn't.

This was torment. Pure, psychological torment. She wanted to forget him, to rid him off her memories. Renji was right, as much as she despised to admit it, he couldn't have loved her back. Impossibility isn't something that she could argue with.

Rukia sighed.

She reached out and took hold of the small metallic device on her table. The memory modifier. That accursed, wretched _thing_ that caused all this mess. And could it… could it _fix_ this mess too…? It would be so easy: to raise it to her level and just flash the memory changer to herself, and all her troubles would be gone. Many times, just like now, her hand had reached out for that small device, her thumb gently stroking the cool surface, lightly tracing the surface of the switch, almost teasingly. Many times she had brought it up to her face, ready to press the button.

A memory suicide.

It was so simple. The solution was so close. The rewards were aplenty. The reasons were abundant:

"_What attracted me to you was _curiosity!"

But those many times, she could not push the switch.

Rukia closed her eyes and exhaled. She hid the piece of equipment in her desk drawer, away from her view. She was a coward. She was a weakling. She couldn't dare to even take the step to lose all memories of him.

For what?

It wasn't love, she knew. That cutting word was relentlessly repeated in the hollows of her mind. _Curiosity. Curiosity. Curiosity._

But yet...

It's because she's in too deep, she can't be saved. Not from her own complicated labyrinthine flower field. Not even when all the flowers in her flower field are dead and wilted. Because she is still praying for rain.

"That wasn't love. But I'm sorry," she whispered, "_I_ still love you, Ichigo. So much."

* * *

Sometimes, Renji dropped by the thirteenth division just to have a peek at his best friend. He worried at first, ripping her away from that place, from him. But how could he just leave her, when he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind that she could get hurt? Ichigo couldn't reciprocate her feelings. Rukia and that bastard; they were like parallel lines, close, but could never touch. He was sure that if he brought her away, he could prevent the unavoidable heartbreak from happening to her.

He was so sure of himself then.

But now, as he looked at her right at this instant, his assurance was starting to waver.

Rukia was back to her usual routine almost automatically. Her tasks were flawless, every paperwork complete with exact detail, but rather than the perfection of her work, he saw _her_. She worked like a machine; efficient, well-organized, but emotionless, _rigid_ even. Long gone was the shine in her eyes, or the fluidity in her motions. He hasn't seen her smile since that day, nor heard her laugh.

She was breathing, but wasn't _living._

"It's been three months, Rukia," he said to her one day as she rested near the Division Thirteen koi pond. He unceremoniously dropped himself next to her. She doesn't turn to face him, her eyes resting on the fishes.

"I know."

"When are you going to get over this? He might have gotten over this already." Renji was taking a huge risk, proceeding straight to that topic, but he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"How would you know, Renji?" her voice was icy cold and distant. She really was the wielder of Shirayuki. She hasn't faced him and instead, threw breadcrumbs into the pond. The fishes splashed around in the water.

_Such an easy life, kois have. To breathe, eat, and then they die. _

"I don't, but—geez, come on." He looked at her profile, and said, "Rukia, you're not— I don't know, you're not the same."

"Of course I'm not." Her sentences were short and direct. Her tone was staccato and unyielding. She wasn't the same. She's been hurt in the same wound twice—once by her brother. And now by _him_, the one person who she thought she could trust with her whole life. That kind of pain, they _change_ people.

The koi splashed around for more bread, but none were heading their way. Rukia closed her eyes and was softly inhaling and exhaling, as if to calm herself. "Ren—" she started, and looked at him. Her eyes were bright, but still frozen underneath the ice locks. "Renji." Her tone was raised and she started, "If you would just left me in Karakura, then maybe—"

"Maybe what…?" Renji cut her off, his eyes still boring into her unmoving figure. He wanted to be calm, to utter those words in a kindly manner, but they tumbled out wrong. "You heard him. You're going to get hurt sooner or later! And the longer you stay, the more it will hurt!"

She tore her eyes away from him. "I have paperwork to be done. Excuse me." She got up and left silently, not resting her eyes upon him even once. _Shit_. Renji almost wanted for her to scream at him, curse at him, hit him, push him in the koi pond, even. At least he could react to that, but just now? What _was_ that? He let out a frustrated groan and covered his face with his hands. Had he lost his best friend?

* * *

"She seems colder, huh?"

Renji perked up and turned around. Ukitake-taichou was slowly walking towards him. He breathed out an exhale. How long had Renji been sitting here? "She's been like that ever since that day."

Ukitake slowly sat down let to him and smiled serenely. "Heart sickness, I presume," he added, "She misses him." Renji replied with a grunt. Of course she misses him. What else is new? They both sat and watched the leaves rustling in the evening wind. The wind chimes jingled its ring. The koi were swimming lazily about. To all appearances, it seemed like the most tranquil way to spend the evening, but in the red-head's mind, it was chaos.

"I'm not too sure though," Ukitake said suddenly, "About what you said about Ichigo-kun."

"What d'ya mean?"

"What I mean is that, he might not have reacted the way you think. You might be surprised. "

Renji gave a puzzled look, which Ukitake replied with a enigmatic smile. He got up, turned around and started walking back to the entrance. Renji twisted his body round and yelled, "Wait, what do you—"

"But if you'll excuse me, Renji-kun, I need to have a quick chat with Byakuya." Ukitake smiled at Renji one final time before saying, "I kind of miss the old Rukia-chan."

* * *

※

_Again._

It was a relief this never happens at the hospital, but as soon as I stepped into my home, the thoughts come flying across my mind's eye, rendering me to near hysteria. These... images, they weren't just psychological, you see; instead they brought upon physical effects. My body was responding to these images, as if reliving them, as if they were memories, rather than products of imagination.

My head started spinning, the world started tumbling. I held on to the back of a chair, my hand at my throat, as if I was choking.

_Fire burning, fire crackling. Fire all around him. Crushing heat all around him, he felt like he was going to get flattened. He couldn't breathe. Oxygen is a myth. His lungs weren't working. He was going to die in flames._

_In front of him, a girl in white, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes, purple. Violet. She had a smile, sad, but so bright, so hopeful. She opened her mouth as if to say something—_

I breathed. I coughed. These things brought me to hell and back, almost literally. I could always feel the heat of the fire. A phoenix though…? It was always a phoenix. And the woman in white, she never finished what she wanted to say. It was always cut, right _there_.

And though I could see the colour of her eyes, I couldn't place who she was.

It frustrates me, so freaking much.

I sat down on the kitchen table and opened my bento dinner. It's usually curry rice today. But not anymore. _Stop thinking about it. Stop. _I banged my head on the table. I placed a hand on my aching forehead and separated the chopsticks.

That was such a stupid thing to do.

God, my forehead _throbbed_.

"_Do you want to save your family?"_

"_Of course. Is there a way?"_

"_There's only one: You… have to become a shinigami."_

"_Gimmie the sword, shinigami."_

"_I'm not 'shinigami'. I'm—"_

I pushed away my bento, my appetite suddenly gone. These _ images, _goddammit. A flash of a tarred road. The glare of a streetlight. Black robes. Silver katana. _"I'm not 'shinigami'. I'm—" _Andthen nothing else. And then a hiss of emptiness shrouding my mind.

These images are getting worse by the week. I threw my chopsticks on the table and it bounced onto the floor, clattering clumsily. I don't want to eat. The chair scraped noisily across the kitchen floor as I left the dining table.

I turned on the TV, hoping for some form of distraction, anything to get my mind off these visions. The TV blared out the Chappy the Rabbit theme song. _Shit_. Get out of my mind!

Get the hell out of my mind!

"_Ichigo… do you love me?"_

"_What attracted me to you wasn't love, Rukia,"_

"_What attracted me to you was _curiosity_, if you wanted to know so badly."_

"_It was not fucking _love_, Rukia!"_

"Rukia...!"

I dropped my head in my hands, exhaling a shudder. The TV screen was my only witness as I finally let myself go that night. _I miss you, Rukia. Goddammit, I miss you, so much._

I practically threw you away that night. What the hell was I thinking, saying all those things? It's been five months since that night. I've never stopped hating myself. I panicked, that's what I did. Ever since Haruki, I couldn't bear to think of getting into another relationship.

But you, Rukia, you were different. In all ways, you were completely different than Haruki. You're loud, you're annoying, you're crazy, you're obsessive over that dumb bunny, you're stubborn, you're maddening in every way. But beneath all that you were just completely being yourself. And that's the difference between you and Haruki.

But, fuck, what does it matter anyway? You're gone. I said stupid things and acted rashly. Now you're gone. I don't know if I'll ever see you again. I don't know how to contact you, how to get back to you- I don't even know if you're in Japan anymore. What was that you said? About Soul Society...? Screw it; I don't believe in any of that crap.

But I don't care what it is, I want to see you again just for once. I just have one thing to say to you, Rukia:

_"I'm sorry._"

* * *

**A/N:** ALL THE ANGST!

To clarify, Ichigo still cannot place who the girl is in his images. The memory modifier saw to that.

To reiterate Ichigo, I'm SORRY.

And also, I want to say a huge thankyousomuchIloveyou for all those that left a review while I went MIA. That really motivated me to at least add just a little something in the document each time I get one.

And also the HUGEST THANKYOUSOMUCHILOVEYOUTHISFR EAKINGMUCH to those who actually stayed from the very first time this was published till now. (_Are_ there any? Hahaha) I'm not the most consistent updater around but I just—thank you for your support :')


	11. The Unsevered Bond in Between

**A/N: **Ooooh, an update without a minimum three month hiatus? Wow-wee! XD Some notes before the beginning of the chapter, if you may :)

1) This chapter has some references from the prequel-oneshot of this fic, In The Falling Rain. Do check it out if you haven't :)

2) My Bleach facts are a bit unsteady. (I'm still in the midst of rewatching the whole Soul Society arc.) Please correct me if I've written anything inaccurate :D

3) Enjoy!

* * *

**XI- The Unsevered Bond in Between **

_Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart. _  
~ Haruki Murakami, _Kafka on the Shore_

* * *

I dug the heel of my palm against my eye, trying to stay just awake enough to write down on the clipboard. I scrawled the condition of the patient onto the paper. _Improving greatly. To be discharged soon._

"You look tired, doctor."

"Huh?" My patient smiled back at me. It's rare not to find Takada-san in a smile; I don't think I've ever encountered a moment when she has so much as a frown on her lips. "Oh. Yeah, sometimes I couldn't sleep well. Nightmares."

"Nightmares, eh?" said Takada -san. Takada Mai-san was a lovely old woman, placed under my care since a fortnight ago. She has the typical grandmother aura that makes people feel at ease around her. It was easy talking to her.

"Well…. not exactly. They're like images in my head. Too vivid to be called a dream. I'm not sure if 'nightmare' is even a good description of it. Hallucinations, more like."

Takada Hiro, Mai's husband, chuckled at my words. He was a man of few words, but he was always, always there beside his wife. Whenever it was visiting hours, Hiro would be there, his hands right atop of Mai's. Earliest to come, last to leave.

Takada Mai-san touched my forearm to regain my attention. I looked at her softly smiling face as she told me, "You know, my mother used to say that dreams are a way how soulmates connect. It's the _bond_, my dear boy. The more vivid and more frequent they are, the closer you are to your soulmate." I raised my eyebrows in amusement. Hard not to, especially when I was cynical over these sort of things.

"Oh, you...! You don't believe me, do you? Come, my dear, let me tell you a little something: In my times, we have arranged marriages instead of—what do you call it, _dating other people_…? And my mother has set me up with a person who I have never, and will never meet, until the date of my wedding.

"And, what do you know, weeks before my wedding, I kept having dreams about this one man. I kept quiet, of course, people would scorn me if I were to tell anyone! Can you believe it? About to get married, and running around telling people about a strange man literally in my dreams?" She chuckled at the memory, and I smiled at her, egging her to keep going. Something—_someone_— struck in my thoughts.

"And it turns out, I found out on the day of my wedding, that man from my dreams really turned out to be my soon-to-be husband at that time, my dear Hiro." She laughed and the man beside her smiled lovingly at his wife. "You see now, my dear, this isn't something fancy made up fairytale. It's true, it really is."

She pointed at the doctor on the opposite bed and whispered, "Maybe it's Kinou-sensei, huh? Tell us, who ran across your mind when I mentioned this? Who's the lucky girl, eh, doctor?"

I smiled at them, not answering. She chuckled, not urging me, and in a way, I was really glad. I changed the topic to Takada Mai's greatly improving condition. Hiro-san looked especially elated. His wife was okay again. I couldn't help but to smile at them.

I briefed them about the discharging procedures then reassured time and time again that it's merely my job when they uttered countless thank yous. I got up and closed their bedside curtain for privacy. Across the room, Kinou Mizuki-sensei caught my eye, and she gave me a quick smile as a gesture. I nodded a reply, then closed the ward door behind me.

As I walked across the hallway, heading back to my office, Takada's little anecdote took to me. I touched my palm against the back of my neck and mumbled, "A soulmate bond, huh...?"

How long has it been since you left? _Months_. Why would I even put any hopes in you? I've tried to contact Chad and Ishida— you mentioned both of them that night. True enough, they both knew and remembered you; but no one has seen you since we graduated high school. Loads of help, they were. And when I asked Inoue, she bombarded _me_ with questions in retaliation. Psh, as if _I_ knew where you were.

It's been four months, and yet...

I shook my head, laughing bitterly at myself.

I'm becoming such a cheesy sap.

* * *

※

The dull thud recurred as their stocking-clad feet fell against the wooden floor. The two taichous were discussing matters regarding their prior captain meeting when their conversation slowly ebbed away. Both the thirteenth-division and the sixth-division taichou continued walking in silence.

He knew this was a chance for him to bring it up. Ukitake-taichou broke the silence first. "Rukia is getting chilly lately, don't you think, Byakuya-san? Ever since she came back to Soul Society."

As her captain, he was naturally worried for Rukia. Her personality seemed like it had backtracked a few ice ages back; it was not something he welcomed after knowing just now spirited she can be. It was disheartening to see her like that sometimes.

"What do you think, Byakuya-san?"

Byakuya acknowledged the question, Ukitake could see, but did not respond. Ukitake sighed inwardly. He felt like he needed to take certain measures to get some answers from the stoic captain.

"Why won't you let her be with Ichigo-kun?"

Byakuya seemed to have been taken aback by the sudden question, but he barely showed it. He took a breath before answering, in his usual tone, "Because we don't mix with humans." Ukitake's silence and persistent eye contact egged him to continue. "You know there are rules against it."

"Yes, but are rules more important than your sister's feelings?"

"Her relationship with that boy is making her more distracted from her duties. You have seen her injuries that she came home with. A shinigami isn't supposed to have emotions— they sidetrack and divert your attention." Byakuya turned his gaze towards him. "One should not be led astray by their hearts."

"I disagree, Byakuya-san," Ukitake reacted. "What about Hisana? You _loved_ her. Married her, in fact. Love; that's an emotion isn't it? You went against your superiors to have your way." Hisana was from Rukongai, and Byakuya, who came from a privileged family, was forbidden to even see her. But yet…

"You weren't like yourself when you were away from her— trashing about like the temperamental little boy you once were. And yet when Hisana was near, your volatility seemed like it was never there.

"You were _happy_ with her, Byakuya-san. I hope you haven't forgotten that."

Byakuya hasn't said a word, his face betrayed no emotion. It was wearisome sometimes, talking to him; Ukitake couldn't tell what he was thinking. He was one step away from sighing out loud and massaging his forehead. Thankfully, they reached the end of their mutual pathways and stopped at a junction. Ukitake faced Byakuya before saying,

"Let her be happy, Byakuya."

* * *

There were so many times where she fell asleep, utterly exhausted, and she dreamt of _dreams_. Dreams so clear, so real that she was sure it was the truth. A truth that can only be grasped in dreams. Complicated, she knew, but in actuality, nothing is really simple anymore. In those dreams, the line between reality and fantasy was blurred. In those dreams, reality felt fake. In those dreams... he was there.

_In the torrential downpour, the rain is falling from the black night sky, through the leaves and against their cold heads. He is holding her in his strong arms, his hand strokes her head as he whispers to her: shhhh, don't cry, shhh..._

_They leave the park, step by step in the night, fingers entwined around each other's, his arm bumping against her shoulder. Their eyes flit upon each other, but neither of them says a word. They both feel the static tension between them. There is an unspoken secret, hanging like a noose. _

_He kisses her that night, later, his calloused hands cupping her face and running through her wet hair. She does not resist, not like before, in the park. She let him lead on, as he closes the door, dripping puddles of rain water in his room. Neither of them cares. This is now. This is what matters. _

_His deep brown eyes, so close, so close, _so_ close. Noses touching. Lips tingling. Limbs around each other tight. Her heart thump-thump-thumping in her ribcage underneath her still damp pajamas. She sees the worry in his eyes. He respects her privacy, but she can tell he was getting anxious. "Please," she begs him not to ask. "Please." He agrees, reluctantly, but agrees. He kisses her forehead and murmurs,_

"_I love you, Rukia."_

Rukia woke up crying.

She sat up on her futon, the warm remnants of the dream lingering on her skin, her eyes, her heart. So close, yet so unattainably far. The tears spilled from her eyes and she clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs. _Why...?_ Rukia buried her face in her knees as she pulled her legs closer to her chest, making herself smaller and smaller even. If she contained herself enough, would she disappear into oblivion? Would she escape this reality? Her heart ached as if it was stabbed repeatedly by a katana, slashed by shards of glass, crushed into a hundred pieces. She could not control her tears, not this morning, not after that dream.

"_Shh, don't cry."_

She whispered his name quietly, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around her. _Please, please, please._ She clutched her own arms in a death grip, a pale comparison to what she needed.

It was the night before. The rainy night before that dreaded day when she sealed the deed. The next day, when dawn was rising, when he roused, she was already up and ready. She pressed that memory modifier and killed off his memories.

_Those eyes of his,_ she will never forget them.

Dreams like those were a curse. She found a few moments of imagined happiness in them, but then she would wake —and she always does— and cruel reality would crash down upon her like a massive avalanche. And she would realize that, no, reality cannot be that sweet.

"_I love you, Rukia."_

"Please," she whimpered to herself, willing herself, "Just stop... Don't..."

Her tears keep cascading down her face. Seven years worth of guilt finally released in salty tears and muffled sobs on a lonely winter morning.

* * *

※

"Mouuuu," Keigo whined, leaning towards me, his face just a bit too close to mine. I growled and pushed him away roughly. He tumbled back onto his chair, a hurt look on his face. He pointed accusingly at me as I finally hung up my previous call. "Oi, Kurosaki! All you do is work, work, work! It's not healthy, Ichigo!"

"Because unlike you, I actually have a proper job?"

Mizuiro, who was sitting on the stool beside me, chuckled. "Ouch."

Keigo's face fell dramatically. Faux tears streamed down his face as he yelled, "Huh!? Ichigo! You're so callous! You're cruel! I cannot believe you're actually my friend!"

I turned my back from him and just managed to light-heartedly say, "Suit yourself, Keigo," before he scrambled all over me, apologizing profusely. Mizuiro laughed, commenting on how it's been a while, but it's always been the same.

Tonight was one of those nights when Mizuiro came back to Karakura and Keigo somehow just managed to ring us all up and drag us to a nearby bar for a night. It really has been a while since we had one of these nights; it's been five years since I saw Mizuiro in the flesh. He's working in some bigshot company now, always on the move. Hah, never would have guessed it, huh? This baby-faced playboy, in a top notch multi-national company? Time changes things, I guess.

The cool night passed as usual, until (as usual) Keigo got just a tiny bit drunk and he started seeing the world in rose-tinted glasses and started 'observing' more of his surroundings.

"Ohmigod, Ichigo!" he exclaimed suddenly, a few pitches higher than his usual voice, cutting me off mid-sentence from a story to Mizuiro. Keigo crept nearer to me and slipped his hand into my pocket, taking out my phone. "You have a rabbit sticker on your phone? Ohmigod, Ichigo, dass _sooo_ cuuuuute!"

Oh, _crap_, I forgot about that. That day when you won a booklet of stickers in a lucky draw, you started sticking them _everywhere_. The back of my phone included apparently. Why didn't I tear it off as soon as I found out?!

"Keigo! Give it back before you drop it!"

He scrambled off, my phone dangerously in his drunk hands, as he announced his observation to the whole bar. I turned around for backup from my other friend, but it turns out, Mizuiro was too busy sweet talking the lady sitting across the bar, pretending not to know us. As usual. That bastard.

"And ooooh!" Keigo squealed, "It's a _Chappy the Bunny_ sticker!"

* * *

**A/N: **Right now, I'm in the peak of the semester (i.e. that time when 70 percent of the lecturers decide that, "Hey! Let's dump a million assignments to the students!")**. **Wish me luck that I'd survive this! DX I've written quite a lot for the draft of Chapter 12 though, so there won't be such a long gap before the next chapter (I'm... estimating for it to be between two to four weeks...?)

Please do drop by a review! They're like little cookies for me to keep me going :D

Thank you so much for reading! :')


	12. Paraphernalia of the Past

**A/N: **Hey, people, hey!

**I'm super elated!**

I've been working in a team to break into the Malaysia Book of Records for the past three months for Biggest Mural Made of Tin Cans. And on 12.12.12, IT WAS OFFICIAL! WE DID IT! 6m height by 19m length with 14,000 aluminum tin cans!

That being said, here's a new chapter as a celebratory gesture! Haha :D Changes are a-comin' in this one!

* * *

**XII- ****Paraphernalia of the Past**

_Memory is a way to holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose _—Kevin Arnold

* * *

The air that day was so crisp, almost as though if one were to grasp it, the air would crunch in their palms, just like the white snow underneath their feet. The trees around them had changed their attire again for the year. It was vivid green when she was delegated to Karakura; a salad mix of vivid orange, brown and bright yellow when she was brought back here; and now it bore nothing but pure white crystals pressing down upon their boughs.

It had been an eventful summer and a dismal autumn and Rukia was almost—_almost_— glad to see some change in the atmosphere. _This_ walk was a change too: her brother had invited her to take a stroll in the nearby forest, away from the training grounds, from the offices and from the residence areas. When was the last time she did this with him? She could not remember. Was there _ever_ a moment like this?

There were no spoken words between them, and Rukia could not judge whether it was calming or somewhat uncomfortable. To be truthful, she had never been completely at ease with her brother. But the atmosphere surrounding them was nothing short of breathtaking tranquility. It... has been a while since it snowed here, hasn't it?

"Rukia," Byakuya started, almost making her jump. _Almost_. She did not. Instead, she looked up at him, and he continued, "What is your relationship with that boy?"

_That boy_. She looked away; her heart started racing in her ribcage. Rukia knew who he was talking about; there had never been any other. It felt like she was a small child about to be reprimanded by her teacher. Her mouth felt dry and her heart felt like lead. Of course, there was nothing between them. Not anymore. Not ever.

"There is nothing between us at all, nii-sama."

Saying it out loud made it felt so real, so numbingly painful. Byakuya continued walking, bereft of any emotion on his face, and Rukia followed, this time a few steps behind him, eyes locked onto the crystalline snow on the ground.

"You do know that there are rules against this, Rukia," he continued. Rukia's head snapped up, curious to what he was about to say. Her eyes locked onto the scarf he was wearing; Byakuya walked on, his back to her. She nodded, even though she knew he could not see her reaction. She did not trust herself to speak.

"Shinigamis and humans should not —_could not_ be together. The consequence is simple: Exile from Soul Society. Good shinigamis gone because of this, do you know?" His steps do not stop, but slowed down; and he turned around so his eyes met hers. "And you _do_ know I do not want the family name to be tarnished."

Rukia stopped in her tracks. Her eyes refused to leave his person, her heart was building up a tribal drum sequence. "Is this— is this _just_ about the family name, nii-sama?" Immediately she regretted opening her mouth. _Such insolence…! _a voice in the back of her mind reprimanded her. This was the first time she had spoken up against his word, she realized. Byakuya seemed to realize it as well, and he turned around and faced her.

"I promised her that I would protect you, Rukia," he said, taking two steps closer to his sister. "I intend to keep that promise until the day I die."

She was silent, shutting her mouth with a lock and key. There were too many things that zipped across her mind, too many questions and protests. But there was one that was especially striking: Was she actually allowed to talk back against him? Was she allowed to speak her mind, to refute, to protest against her brother? _He_ was the one who took her in, though she was from the 78th District of Rukongai; a place _lightyears_ apart from his world. _He_ took her out of that rut and into this place, into the elite Kuchiki family what more. _He_ was the one who made her into what she is now: a shinigami.

_You should feel grateful_, that voice chastised her again, _that someone actually took you in._ Gratefulness. A sudden thought occurred to her. Was that why she abided to his instructions years ago? Because she felt _indebted_ to him? _Should_ she feel indebted to him?

"Rukia," he called out, breaking her train of thoughts. She looked up at him; his eyes were still on hers. She never mentioned this to anyone, but she used to be scared of those eyes when she first met him. They were so shockingly sharp and it was like she could be cut down by it like his bankai. This comparison has never felt truer. "Do you understand why this is so?"

That voice sounded again: _What good would it bring if you did speak out your mind? What does it even matter anyway?_ _Not _broke the eye contact between them and said, "I understand, nii-sama."

The wind blew around them, and Rukia could almost hear the crackling in the atmosphere—tense situations or elemental reasons, she did not know. It felt as if hours had passed before Byakuya cut through the silence and asked, "Rukia, are you happy?"

She raised her head, her mouth slightly open. Her guard was thrown aback; she did not expect that from him. She had been taken in the Kuchiki family for years, but he has never shown a shred of concern for her. And yet… why would he ask this so out of the blue?

A thought suddenly swooped into her mind.

Did he hear her crying that morning, three days ago?

All of a sudden, she felt an overwhelming burst of shame, as if there was a very intimate part of her had been ripped open and spied on. She had put up thick walls around her to avoid these circumstances, and yet because of one incident, everything crumbled. She felt angry at herself, humiliated by her own weakness, small and insignificant; a mess of incompatible emotions swirled up in a storm in her head.

"Rukia, are you truly happy here?"

_No. No, I'm not. I haven't been. Not since that day, seven years ago. Not since that day, four months ago. It hurts, nii-sama._

The words whirled in her head like a typhoon and yet she could not find the strength in her to utter them. Instead, she smiled that perfect plastic saccharine smile she had practiced for so long: the small stretch of the lips, no teeth, a tiny tilt of the head, hands clasped on front of her.

"Yes, nii-sama, I am."

* * *

※

The door to the small room downstairs opened with a soft click. I twisted the knob and it creaked open. I flipped on the switches and the lights blinked and buzzed noisily before it shed brightness in this room. Tiny and stuffy, with no windows or décor, there were only a few plastic chests of drawers being arranged against the wall in this area. One of them was where you kept all your clothes, books and various paraphernalia.

The place hasn't been entered since _that day_, four months ago.

I have been trying to stop you from entering my mind (hardly worked, to be honest) but after Keigo, oh-so-_kindly_ of him, announced the Chappy sticker on my phone in that bar, the idea of entering this room kept niggling in my head. And the idea persisted, more and more daily, until today, when I gave in to the thought.

I scanned the room once more, hesitating to enter, feeling as if I had intruded your space, but as your image flashed across my mind again, I lifted my legs and started moving towards the drawers. I touched the dusty surface of the first one and traced my finger down the side of the chest. Grey dust bunnies clung onto my index finger. _It's been so long..._ I pulled opened the top-most drawer.

Clothes: neatly folded, perfectly organized. I took the top one out and held it up. A blue one-piece dress with a star insignia on the hem. I nearly scoffed. I think most of your daily wear were one piece dresses. When we went out to buy clothes, you would almost always pick out one of these dresses without fail. We argued once, about that; a silly, childish, immature argument. But aren't most of our debates like that: unsubstantiated and insensible? It seemed like we enjoyed getting on each other's nerves.

I guess, in a way...

A salmon pink piece right at the bottom caught my eye, and I pulled it out carefully. It was a short-sleeved top, with ruffles on the sleeve. You only wore this once, I think. That day you tied your hair up in a tiny ponytail ("It's a bunny tail!" you had insisted.) and matched this with a three-quarter khaki pants. It was a Saturday, I remembered, and we went out for a movie that day. Some B-grade animation, which you practically _raved_ about. (They had bunnies as main characters.)

I never said it out loud, but I thought you looked cute that day; how excited you look when the movie started, how your laugh seemed to reverberate that day, how your cheeks pinked when the happy ending played, how your eyes shined when you said to me, "Thank you, Ichigo. I had a good day."

I shut my eyes and pressed my hand over my forehead. _Stop_ _it._ I willed my brain to erase the image and to draw up a blank. I opened my eyes, staring at the tiled floor. I scoffed at myself. _Why am I even here...?_ And yet my legs were immobile to move away from this room.

_I'm becoming such a mess._

I pulled out the next drawer and I found a mass of books and manga. There was a mess of collection you have here. From classics to cliché love stories, mystery novels to science fiction… wow. Hey, some of my books are here. I'd wondered where they went. Hamlet looked particularly leafed through. How many times have you read this? Tsk. I thought of taking them back, but decided against it. I placed back all the books in the drawer, mine included.

In the very bottom the drawer was a mountain of knick knacks. Clothes tags, keychains, bookmarks, small plushies. I pushed through the stuff and I found a sketch book at the back of the drawer. Raising my eyebrows, I took the book out and sat cross-legged on the floor.

The first page was a fully coloured illustration of a… hamster. (?) I pursed my lips and tried to stop myself from laughing. Your drawings were as horrendous as ever. I continued flipping through. The rest of the pages were filled with doodles of an assortment of animals, some coloured in, some sketched with pencil, some with felt pen.

I noticed that you scrawled random jottings in between your doodles. Your day-to-day commentaries, perhaps?

_Caramel pudding for dessert today! _

_The ending for Galaxy Train was sad )': _

_The skies are extra, extra blue today, clearer than Soul Society. _

_I met up with Orihime again today. Her food is as weird as ever. But she was bubbly, as always. …I've missed her._

I can't stop the sad smile that spread against my lips as I flipped through the pages reading the bits of your life here. If only... you were still here...

I continued looking through the sketchbook, and I can feel my smile slowly disappearing and was replaced by the furrowing of my eyebrows. There were no drawings on the last few pages, and instead, they were fully filled with your neat writing. I scanned through them, not wanting to intrude, but the gravitational pull was much too immense.

_We shared chocolate pudding today. _

_Played House of Dead in the arcade. That idiot didn't even help me! I ended up dying before reaching the second stage._

_The photograph. I ended up getting hurt, emotionally and physically. Can he fix this?_

_Ended up making spaghetti tonight. He seemed to like it._

_The Idiot Who Does Not Appreciate Fine Art. That should be his name._

_He kissed me last night._

_That smile._

_I'm falling._

I flipped the page, and came across an empty page, completely white, except for a small jotting on the top left hand side. It was written lightly in pencil in tiny, tiny hiragana. _Renji came to Earth. I don't know what to do. I love him... but... does he... love me back?_

And after that, the sketchbook was empty.

Like a broken record, bits of our last interaction together replayed statically as it always was; always the same content, always so clear. The image of your broken self flashed before my eyes.

"_Goodbye, Ichigo." _

I closed the sketchbook, feeling nauseous, disgusted with myself, with my words I spat at you. The effect never faded away, not even after these few months had passed. Maybe it won't _ever_, not until I could apologize directly to you. Maybe not even until then.

I closed my eyes. "Enough...!" I willed myself, ineffectively. It could not stop; the images were too bright, too clear, too fresh in memory.

Why am I even here? Why am I revisiting this?

I got up, shut the lights, closed the door and walked away.

* * *

※

Ukitake was surprised to see him in his office during lunch break. After all, Kuchiki Byakuya was not one to be known for a casual chat. He entered the office but did not sit down in front of the thirteenth division captain. The cushion remained empty. He smiled to his guest nonetheless.

"Ara, Byakuya-kun, how can I help you?"

_"Let her be happy, Byakuya."_

That day, a week ago, Ukitake's words had caught him off guard and struck him deep. Was he so occupied in protecting her physically that he had really overlooked his sister's happiness? When he promised Hisana he would protect her, he meant it in every way possible.

And if letting Rukia go back to him was something that would make his sister feel better, then he would let it be. Byakuya would protect her with every iota of his being. Because that was what Hisana would want for him to do; that was what older brothers do.

When she answered him that day, he could see that she was faking her words. The actions were all too clear. He did not say anything to her that day, though. He needed time to think, to plan his next actions. He had thought about it for so long; whether or not this would be best for her. Because he knew too well what would happen, and he understood deeply what the consequences were.

Yet then again, were rules more important than Rukia's happiness?

_Yes,_ he decided, this was what was best for her.

"You may do as you please," he spoke to the white-haired taichou.

"Hm?" Ukitake sounded, his eyebrows rising up in askance.

"I'm merely her brother. You are her taichou. You can give her any instructions, and I could not interfere. Division Thirteen is not under my duty."

The way Byakuya spoke would mean nothing to others; a string of unattached, non-cohesive phrases with seemingly no meaning. But his words soon made connections in Ukitake's brain. _He is allowing her go back to Earth._ He smiled softly at the sixth division taichou.

"I understand. Okay, Byakuya-kun."

Kuchiki Byakuya nodded. He turned around to leave before he stopped, mid-step and faced him again."I just have one thing to say," he spoke with an air of warning, "Do not let her get hurt."

"You have my word." Ukitake smiled. With that, Byakuya left the office quietly, leaving no trace that he had been there in the first place. Ukitake again focused his attention towards his paperwork, but his mind was buzzing at the revelation that just happened. Byakuya isn't the warmest of the lot, but he cares a lot for his sister.

"He just doesn't show it," said Ukitake, a soft smile still etched on his face, his mind calmly planning his step. He would ask dear Rukia-chan for a supervising duty tomorrow.

Task location: Karakura, Japan, Human World.

* * *

**A/N:** I haven't been able to reply to all reviews for the past chapter. But this time I'll read and reply to every one of it! Because I really, really, really do appreciate it! Reviews keep me as happy as a bunny :D Please do drop by one~

Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Promises Bound to the Night

A/N: An update on my birthday, yay! (It's still the 9th, somewhere on earth still, right? Haha :D)

First up, thank you so much for the reviews for the past chapter! (Eeeep! I found another Malaysian AND a Taylorian! *waves* :D) Quite a few got me thinking and I had to edit out a few parts in this chapter. I love to see what your perspectives are for this chapter; so things like that can really help out to perk up this story.

As always, enjoy!

* * *

**XIII- Promises Bound to the Night**

_You can't run away from memories, no matter how hard you try ~_John Saul, _Midnight Voices._

* * *

_The nights are getting colder recently_.

The sky was orange with streetlights illuminating the night, with the wan moon hanging low and shining brilliantly, like a spotlight beaming upon his stage. He went out with Keigo tonight and Ichigo didn't feel like going home, not yet. Recently he's been trying his best to stay away from home. He's been doing more night shifts, more overtime, to the point that the nurses were starting to get concerned about his work ethics. He ignored their concerns; he wanted something to keep his mind busy, to avoid letting it stray… to _her_.

He had his thoughts (relatively) under control before, but after reading those words in the sketchbook, the invasion of memories were like a new wound; open, fresh and painful. And _home_ seemed to be a very potent neurostimulating drug to keep his mind looped around her.

He stuffed his hands in his pocket and kept his eyes on the tarred road as he lazily kicked a lone rock. Everything was silent except for the ceaseless buzzing of the street lights above. Mizuiro's flight had just departed, and after sending him off, Keigo somehow persuaded him to have a drink. _A _drink turned out to be _a dozen_ drinks and it ended up with Ichigo listening to him blubbering about how he misses his high school friends and how he misses the time spent with his friends and how simple life was then, blah, blah, _blah_—

He's always been such an irritating pain, Keigo, but he's one of the few that actually stuck with him here in Karakura. And he guessed, Keigo's the only one who understands the feeling of saying goodbye while staying stagnant in one place.

Mizuiro, Chad, Ishida, Tatsuki: they've all gone away, off to newer lands, meet new people, see new sights. Even Karin, Yuzu, and his dad, even. Scattered all over Japan, all over the world. But Ichigo? Call him a romantic, but he owes a lot to this small town. He doesn't want to leave. He couldn't leave.

_But then..._ he thought as her image flew past by his mind's eye, _everyone else leaves. So what difference does it make?_

Ichigo clapped a hand over his forehead, frowning to himself. He had willed himself to stop, but to no avail. She was too damn persistent, like a fly. Maybe he was tipsy; his resolve was weaker than usual.

Or maybe he had one drink too many. Because suddenly Ichigo felt the ground shake beneath his feet. He stopped in his tracks and gripped the lamppost beside him. The air suddenly felt dense and heavy, like there was a hundred pounds pushing down against his body. His legs were shaking but he forced himself to stay upright. Oh god, he couldn't _breathe_. What the hell was going on?

Something was terribly, horrendously wrong. But somewhere within him, he did not panic, and instead, he his heart tugged at him to search for the source. An overwhelming surge of déjà vu plunged onto him. All of this: it's familiar, he _knows_ this feeling.

Ichigo gripped the lamppost tighter and pushed himself back up his feet. He dragged one foot forwards on the ground, then another, then another, and another. Slowly, he gained momentum and soon enough, he _ran_. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know what he was _doing_ even, but his legs took him across the street and into a common park. Everything seemed normal at first glance: the swings, the slide, the see-saw were perfectly fine, the crickets were doing their nightly orchestra, the stars were still up in the sky.

But something was wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

As soon as he stopped, the atmospheric pressure started to build up and press down upon him again, and this time, it was even greater than before. It almost took all of his strength just to _breathe_. He was going to collapse, if he didn't move away from this place! Ichigo took hold of the fence and tried to stand up and look around.

_Something was here._ He could _feel_ it.

Ichigo squinted his eyes and, there, right _there_, smack in the middle of the park, just beside the swings, he saw this huge... blurry presence: pitch black with a white top, long and serpentine, but with hind limbs and claw-like appendages.

"What... the hell... is that...?" he managed to croak out.

It unhinged its jaw and roared; stomach-churning, animalistic and unrestrained. Ichigo had never heard anything like it. It felt like his eardrums was going to shatter and his heart was going to stop. Ichigo gripped the fence more firmly and he tried to open his eyes. _Move!_ _Run!_ his brain commanded him, but his legs were paralyzed, frozen with shock.

Because right there, contrastingly clear as day, was a figure, clad in black, wielding a katana. The figure seemed to notice his presence and risked a glance over her shoulder.

Their eyes met: deep brown with striking violet.

He knew those eyes.

"Rukia...?"

Those eyes widened, bright and stunning, much like the moon above; and just like the moon, her face paled, bereft of any colour or blood. Her lips moved, but he could not hear her utterance. The grip on her katana loosened and she had nearly slipped the blade.

His heart raced and hope surged within him, bubbling up in a frothy effervescence. This was… real, right? Was that _really her_? He saw her hesitating; her feet shifting and scuffling back and forth, as if she is fighting an inner battle for a decision to either run towards or away from him.

The presence took a step forwards, and the earth trembled and quaked underneath the booming force. Then he saw how quickly her expression hardened. She turned herself away from him and gripped her katana tightly, crouching herself in a fighting stance. _Stop!_ He wanted to scream, _What the hell is going on?!_ Though his voice failed him miserably, he would not leave! Not until he said something to her, no matter what! His resolve hardened, and he took a step towards her.

"Ruki—"

"GET AWAY, ICHIGO! DON'T COME NEAR!"

Maybe it was her manic tone, or her unforgivingly hard expression, but this time, he moved back, his eyes refusing to leave her person. He heard her chanting some words, unclear and complex, before she jumped up and a brilliant green light streaked out from her hands. The orb exploded on the edge of the being and then he heard another roar; louder and rawer.

He felt as if his knees were going to give way to the immense pressure, but he tried his best to keep his eyes open, and to especially watch _her_. He saw how swiftly she moved, now gracefully she jumped, how brutally she cut, swung, maimed and attacked. Slowly, he noticed that the presence was staring to get clearer; the edges was starting to sharpen, the colour was getting more brilliant, the roars more piercing, and the pressure much, much denser.

Slowly, clarity started to ease into his view of the... thing. He saw the white mask and the acid-green markings on it, like a complex tattoo. And he saw the dark purple scales shimmering with slime on its skin. And he saw the deep, black, gravitating hole right in the middle of its chest.

And suddenly, in a snap, his vision blurred out, like black and white static on the television screen on a stormy day. He started hearing a distinct shriek in the back of his mind, as if someone was scraping a chalkboard right against his brain. Ichigo felt a sharp bite of pain in his head.

The monster flashed out his tongue and green liquid started shooting out. Rukia jumped and evaded the attack, but the corrosive liquid was splattered all over. Some spattered on her exposed ankle and the burn was so excruciatingly painful. She steeled herself; she could not give up now; she will not succumb to this pain. Rukia got up and jumped once more, aiming Shirayuki to its head.

The pain did not stop, but intensified exponentially. The ache in his head was piercing, like shattered glass slicing his head. He clasped his hands over his head, his eyes shut tight. He could not stand; he was shaking and fell down to his knees, both of his hands clawing at his head. _Someone make it stop!_ The pain was so intense, so deep, it felt like his eyeballs were going to burst under the strain.

As another green orb burst onto the hollow's skin, she landed onto its back, and she held her katana high in the air before at last releasing the final blow. The hollow roared futilely before it slowly disintegrated into thin air, and Rukia fell onto her feet on the ground. She looked up, in search of the man. And _there_, near the park entrance, she saw _him_, curled up in the ground, his hands in his hair, his voice straining with his yells.

Those yells shredded her heart, its effect a hundred times worse than a hollow's roar. Her heart fell to the pits of her stomach and a million worries started shrouding her thoughts. She did not waste time and scurried off to his side, falling to her knees and trying to help him. But _what_? What was going on? What can she do? She panicked, her hands uselessly gripping his shoulder.

"Ichigo? Ichi_go_!"

He knew that voice. He strained to look up and saw that flash of beautiful violet eyes, brimming with worry. He tried to reach out to her, he tried to speak.

"Ru—ki...a"

"I'll help you, Ichigo. I'll help you. Please, please hold on...!"

He heard her voice, but the words did not connect in his head. They merely sounded like garbles of foreign syllables. He wanted to say something, but all he could do is to try to stop the ringing from his head. Pitch blackness started to weave in from the corners of his eyes and slowly, with her voice still helplessly calling out his name in the fading background… he fell into darkness.

* * *

※

I found myself in my room.

_What…?_

The window beside me was open, and the wind was lightly blowing in the night breeze. Everything felt heavy, as if gravity was tripled upon this body. I felt weak, like I haven't eaten in days. Moving a muscle took five times the energy. _Oh god, what happened?_ I was starting to lapse back into the dark, but I tried to stay awake. Something happened just now. Something important. I clawed into the recesses of the mind, trying to hold on to something, _anything_, but I got nothing in return but fuzzy static… and a flash of violet.

You… _you_ were there… weren't you?

I remember your eyes, against the black night. I remember... an overwhelming pressure... and I remember an earthquake. But _you were there_, clad in black, your expression serious, your eyes set determined on... on something. You were... you were yelling my name, telling me... to go away. You were pushing me away, yelling at me to not come near. I felt a deep hollow ache in the middle of my chest. It can't be; that was a nightmare, wasn't it? I covered my eyes with my arm and took a deep breath, trying to rid you off my mind.

"Rukia…"

Then I heard a voice.

"I'm here, Ichigo."

A shock of lightning cracked within me. My mouth felt parched, my tongue cracking, my lips drying up. My heart swelled, my breathing raced. A gush of energy zapped within me. I turned my head to the side of the bed.

And true to your word, _there you were_.

It was you. It was _you_. I wanted you close, to pull you into my arms, to hold you tight. I sat up. Blood rushed into my head and the ceiling inverted and the floor twisted and the colours merged and whole room churned and the world spun violently on its axis. I clasped a palm over my forehead and shut my eyes tight. You got up to your knees and gently pushed me back to the bed.

"Shhhh, just rest, Ichigo. Everything's fine now."

Was this a dream? Another illusion of the mind? A hallucination? But your voice… you sounded so clear, so crisp, so tender; and the hand over my shoulder felt so real. I pried open my eyes just to see you once more. Your hair was partly covering your face as you looked at me with such… sadness. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and push that strand of hair away. I want to look at you, Rukia.

Your hand shifted from my shoulder to my left hand and I turned my palm up, and held on tight, as if you were my last salvation. If this was another dream, then I will savour every second of it. The lethargy slowly seeped its way in, and before I fully drift off, my voice cracked as I tried to say,

"You won't leave, will you?"

You smiled placidly at me.

"I promise."

* * *

※

She laid her head on the mattress and watched him sleep. She reached out with her right and touched the tip of his hair, one messy lock by another. She whispered his name softly, hoping for a response. None, of course. He was asleep, just what he needed. She pulled her hand away and sighed, content enough just by looking at his serene face.

For the past few months, the days seem to flurry by in a rabid rush, a fast forward of episodes and scenes, and there _she_ was, lost in slow motion. She was still trying to grasp her situation, digest all information and trying to churn out reasons. Still trying, still.

Information: She didn't know why her taichou posted her here; didn't her brother forbid her from coming back? Wasn't that the reason she was brought back to Soul Society in the first place? But there was something in Ukitake-taichou's eyes that stilled her queries and quietened her questions. She just obliged.

Situation: Now here she was, back in _his_ world, by his bed, watching him sleep.

And reasons? Does it even matter now?

When she first came here, she felt physically nauseous. All the emotions she buried within her came back up, regurgitated back in a catharsis of a bad hangover. Too many worries, too many concerns, too many _what if'_s.

What if she had run off that night? What would he have done afterwards? She _wanted_ to run, of course, when she first saw him in that park. Little coward, she was.

But when she found him on the ground, writhing with pain, her heart wrenched and her body panicked. What helplessness she felt, for her to see such a sight and yet paralyzed with bewilderment, unable to do a thing. She remembered the wild, pained look in his eyes; how his voice strained with pressure, his voice box almost cracking; the way his fingers clawed at his head, as if trying to rip off demons from inside.

She shut her eyes.

"_Trust Byakuya-san," Urahara said. He glanced over at Ichigo, who was being treated by Tessai on the other corner of the shop. " That was the most powerful memory modifier available. Rather than modifies it, it _blocks_ the whole chunk of memory related to it. You activated it to forget about you, Kuchiki-san and because of that, everything related to the soul world —Shinigamis, Soul Society, hollows, even plus spirits— is completely obstructed from his mind…"_

"_So what happened just now, Urahara...? "_

"_He was physically there when you fought with that Hollow. He hasn't actually _lost _his ability to see hollows and spirits per se, but yet, the effects of the modifier blocked it. He _should_ see it, but his brain could not process it. The collision of those two incidents— for the hollow to be seen, and yet to be blocked at the same time— took a toll on his brain. A memory paradox, if you would."_

"_And how come he never experienced this when it was with me...? "_

"_Sa, who knows…."_

What would he say to her, when he woke up? Would he be angry? Saddened? Disappointed? Would she even still be here? What if she had run off _right now_; let him think it was nothing but a early winter's dream. She needed to remember that their memories were no longer parallel but instead, his broke off in intermittent fractions. She needed to remind herself that their feelings were no longer mutual; that she was nothing more than a stranger to him now.

It would be so easy, to let go of this hand right now, and swoop off back to Soul Society, where she really belonged.

It would be _so easy_.

To _let go_, and leave.

_Now._

She let out a sad, bitter chuckle. That thought came out of cowardice; the innate urge to protect herself from getting hurt again. But it was impossible. Like two poles of a powerful magnet, her hand refused to let go of his, not again.

"Ichigo, why did I come here again?"

As if giving an answer in his sleep, his hand tightened around hers, and inadvertently a slow smile started to spread against her lips. Physically, the smile felt crusted; peculiar and foreign against her usually expressionless face, but intrinsically it felt right.

For the first time in months, this felt like a _true smile_.

She rose up to her knees, leant forward and gently kissed him on the corner of his closed eyes, murmuring his name against his ear. She still doesn't know why she was here, but she couldn't leave, at least not yet.

"_You won't leave, will you?"_

Because she promised.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Especially for this chapter! Phew, that was long!

Do leave by a review! You'll make this writer very, very happy! Hee~ :)


	14. Seeing Her Mirrored Image in Him

**A/N:** This was definitely the chapter that had the most number of revisions. I think I made, like… eight drafts for this? All heading to a different direction, and all ending differently. I do hope I've made the right choice with this finalized one!

Enjoy! Quite another lengthy chapter :)

* * *

**XIV- Seeing Her Mirrored Image in Him**

_Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always._ —Dante Alighieri

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the twittering of birds on his windowsill. Morning sunlight was streaming in, bright and hopeful. Though Ichigo, as he slowly cracked his eyes open, felt _anything_ but bright and hopeful. Instead he felt crushing emptiness from the inside, like a black hole sucking everything in.

What a dream.

And to wake up _knowing_ it was just a dream was devastatingly disheartening. He stared up at the ceiling, unmoving, as he tried to linger in the last residues of the dream. Brilliant shades of violet flitted against his eyes. Her voice still whispered hauntingly in his ear. Her touch... warmed him up from the inside, like hot chocolate on a depressing winter's evening. The sensations left him, almost tauntingly. He squeezed his eyes tight, not wanting to forget. _Don't go. Don't go._

As if in reply, there was a sound, very close and very… familiar.

He turned...

...and there she was.

There was a sudden hush, swooping against the environment like a massive tsunami. Her name barely escaped his lips in a whisper, as if his own voice didn't dare to defy the silence. His head was heavy as lead, but he managed to prop himself up with his elbow. _Rukia_ was asleep by his bed, her head on her folded arm and her hand loosely covering his. Her eyebrows were furrowed, as if she was having a bad dream.

His hand hovered over her shoulder. Should he wake her...? Should he not…? What if this wasn't real? What if _this_ was a dream? Another illusion by his mind, even? Just the thought of this made his hand froze in mid-air. But his brainpower soon fizzled off and he could not stop himself from grasping that petite shoulder, hoping with all his heart that this world would not break, that this reality was _real_.

Her eyebrows knotted tightly once more before she groggily sat herself up, voicing out a sleepy groan. Her eyes flickered before she opened them fully, and Ichigo saw those brilliant eyes, much more dazzling than any hue that his mind could conjure.

He awaited the shatter.

There were none.

The world hasn't ended. This reality was real.

Her hair was disheveled, her eyes looked heavy and tired, her skin was mottled pink and rubicund. Her eyebrows furrowed as she brought herself to a proper sitting position. "Ichigo," she chided, her eyes still getting used to the light, "You need to rest...!" That voice; so crisp, so clear, so _true_. She clasped his shoulder, wanting to gently push him down on the bed, but he resisted and sat up on his bed.

He reached out and pulled her into the tightest embrace.

"You're here..." was all he could say, repeatedly.

She froze in his arms, staccato and rigid. There was a complete blankness, shot in her head like a bullet, but then slowly, the situation was processed. His arms were wrapped around her, like protective shell. His smell bombarded her senses. His touch tingled all her nerve ends. His breath tickled her skin. His voice echoed in her ears.

There he was, so close, so close, _so close._

She let her guard down for a fraction of a second before she twisted out of his grasp. His eyes were wide with surprise; she wasn't sure whether it was because of her presence here again or because she was pulling herself away. Maybe both. She didn't know, she couldn't think. His eyes were too intense, they shot her right through the soul. She shut her eyes.

She wished so much that Life would come with an instruction book, or simple guidelines, or a rough plan, scribbled messily over a scrap receipt— _anything_! He had caught her off-guard and now she was desperately thrashing about for a plan. Her eyes were still shut, and her fists were tightly clenched on her folded legs.

What should she do now?

"Rukia," he called out.

_Please don't. _

He reached out and touched her shoulder. He broke her resolve, and she had to open her eyes and meet his. He got off the bed and placed himself next to her on the floor, both his hands guiding her to face him. She didn't know where to look, what to do, what to _think_. So many months of suppressing her emotions again, and now they were all threatening to fly free.

"Why?" he asked.

Why what? Why did she return? Why did she leave? Why did she erase his memories? Why _what_?

His hands released her shoulder and reached out… and stopped. It hung in mid-air, clenched into a fist, hesitant either to reach out and touch her or retract his hand away. "Ichigo," she finally said. What now? She hasn't decided. She was letting her mouth do the talking. "I have to go now."

_Is that where we're going, Rukia?_ That irritating voice reappeared in her head. But this time, instead of sounding pretentious and indignant, it sounded almost… sad. _Leave? Again? Do you really have to go?_

Her legs were already moving though. Her mind was a cloudy mess. She was on auto-pilot. She still doesn't know what she was doing. Her knees were shaking. She smiled at him, but this felt like just an insincere stretch of the lips.

He looked alarmed, _fearful_ even. Quick as flash, he gripped her wrist, refusing to let go. Those calloused strong hands felt so familiar against her skin; they were once a fighter's hands. But now they are also healing hands. Those tender hands, and those rough hands. Those hands that cut, are now hands that cure. Those hands that were once hers to hold.

"S-stop," he quivered.

She almost let out a chuckle. Is that where they are now? Reduced to nothing but hesitant instructions? What happened to the days of bickering non-stop, where both were talking and neither listened? Those days were long gone, too long ago.

"You're here already," he said, his voice more firm this time, "You're here now. Why do you have to leave?"

She didn't know where these words came from, but they tumbled out from her mouth, unfiltered and unrepressed, emotionless and detached, "Because there is no place for me here. I'm a shinigami, and I don't belong here, not in this human world, not in yours."

_Where do you _get_ all these crap, Kuchiki?_ Pretentious again, that voice, this time. Holier-than-thou.

His eyes never left hers and his tone was level as he asked, in return, "Then why did you come back?" His calmness surprised her. There was no tenor of accusing in his question, just a simple inquiry. "Why did you come back? If you felt like you haven't got a place here, why did you return, Rukia?"

She shook her head. Nothing. A white blankness was spread over her mind. Absolutely nothing.

That previous calmness slowly seeped out as his voice suddenly started rising at her silence, at her inability to respond. "Why, Rukia?" She was frozen in time, her brain decided to stop whirring; the most she could do was to try to not wince. His grip was getting harder, it was starting to hurt. "Why come back? Why not just _leave_ while I was asleep, so we all could just move on with our lives? Let me think it was another illusion."

Her eyes were still fixed on the ground, while his was desperately trying to meet hers. "Rukia." He gripped both her wrists in his hands, trying to make her look at him. "_Why did you return_?"

She yanked her hand away from him, her eyes leering.

"WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER?!"

The volume of her voice startled even herself, but suddenly she was angry at him, at his accusations, at him freely continuing his own life while she was back in Soul Society trying to stop him from interfering in the insides of her mind. He wasn't _affected_, not like her. This… this love—if that's what this is— was pathetically one-sided, with her wearing her heart on her sleeve, and him, not even _looking_ at her metaphorical outfit.

"You have moved on— or rather, you have nothing to move from! All that happened on that summer basically meant _nothing_ to you, Ichigo; so why are you making this sound like it's my fault? Why are you blaming this on me? _It doesn't even matter_, Ichigo, not to you!"

He grasped her by her forearms and pulled her down in front of him, looking directly into her. "It doesn't matter?" Those bright, bright violet eyes, so close to his; he could feel the static between them. "You don't freaking know, Rukia," he breathed, his eyes intense and focused, "What has been going on in my head, ever since that night—"

She tried to wriggle away from his grasp, but he steadied his grip. She fell on the floor in front of him with her knees folded. She looked away again this time. Something would happen if she continued looking at him. She would cry.

"You told me things that night, Rukia," he continued, his voice calm again, and his grip easing. "Things and places I'd never heard of and suddenly you expect me to take it all in and believe all of that." He shook her, slightly, just slightly, to get her attention, but she had shut her eyes this time. It didn't matter. Ichigo persisted, "After all if that, without another explanation, you just left. _You… just… left._ And I had to pick up all the pieces and try to piece them together. Trying to patch up the hole that you ripped into my life."

That accusing tone in his voice made her snap up, something spurred up inside her. "Patch up the hole that I left? What do you think I had when I had to leave? Did you honestly think that I left with no remorse in me? Nothing, like an emotionless robot?"

"You could have at least explained what happened! You gave me no chance at all to say anything at all that night! You told me about that crap; about Soul Society and Death Gods and executions and monsters, and you cannot just expect me to believe everything!"

"_You don't care about me, _Ichigo!" Her hand gestured to herself, to her chest, to her own heart. It was breaking, it was, she could feel it, when she finally said those words. After declaring it out loud, it made it sound so real, so true. It was the truth. It is, it is, she knew. He doesn't care. "You said that you were merely just curious about me. There is no basis on your words about how you were left here fumbling about with the pieces. You have no right, Ichigo, to say this like some self-righteous bas—"

He couldn't stop himself. He reached out and pulled her close, _so close_, as if he wanted their skin to fuse together. He saw the tears once. He doesn't want to see them again. She struggled, tried to withdraw from his hold. His head was in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered, "I'm sorry. Rukia, I'm so sorry."

She gasped. The angry tears that were threatening to spill out stopped. And she stopped resisting too. Instead, she just fell flat, deflated. She wasn't expecting this. She was too used to his old self, his 18 year old self, the one that never listens, never compromises; that she had forgotten that so much time had passed. People change. _He_ has changed. Unlike the old Ichigo, this one has mellowed. His heart wasn't rigid and his opinions weren't carved in stone. No more was the elephantine ego eating up at his soul. He has matured.

"I panicked that day," he said. And she shuddered at the breath that tingled her neck. "I didn't know what I was talking about. I was anxious about things. I was caught off-guard. I was just— just stupid!" He buried her face into her shoulder, murmuring to her skin, wanting the words to seep in and let her know. "I'm sorry I said those words. I didn't mean it."

"You mean something to me, Rukia." He pulled away, just to see her face, sticky with tears. He reached out and wiped the salty trails away. God, he never wanted to see her cry every again. "I _care_, okay?" She dropped her gaze and saw that her hand was clutching his shirt, knuckles white. Silence passed as both tried to regain their composure, but neither moved from their positions. His left arm was still around her waist, his right hand was on top of hers on her lap whilst her left hand was still holding on to him like he was her last savior.

"I could not stop," he finally said, getting her attention, "I can't stop thinking about you. Everything I did had some connection to you. Eating, watching TV, washing the dishes- even when I'm buying freaking bento. Goddammit, you're like an irritating fly in my head."

He allowed himself a single chuckle and she returned it with a sad smile of her own. He tucked that stray lock of hair away from her face. He caressed her cheek, and she found herself irrepressibly leaning towards it. "Coming back home was the hardest, Rukia; the emptiness in this house pressed onto me, like I was slowly being buried alive."

"Please, Rukia," he said, "Don't leave again."

_Don't go, Rukia. _Was that _his_ voice echoing in her, or was it her own, trying to reach out and tell her something?

"Rukia?" he called out to her; her heart swelled. Why did he have this effect on her like this? "Please, say something."

But _what_?

"I... just… Ichigo..."

She couldn't form words. The feeling was to overwhelming, smothering her. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. She shuddered, shutting her eyes wrapped his arms around her lithe body, till there was no gap between them. They fit so perfectly with each other; her head against his shoulder, his arms around her, his palm on the curve of her head.

She pulled away, her eyes filling up with not tears, but storms of emotion. Confusion, lost, happiness, sadness. Her heart was in a torrent, the waves nearly drowning her.

He couldn't bear to see her like this. He leant forward and kissed her lips. She froze for a while, then reached out and clutched his shirt collar, pulling him closer, kissing him roughly. He wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her close, closer than they've ever been in nearly eight years. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and pulled her close until her body was flush against his. The kiss was anything but soft and delicate. It was hungry, ferocious, passionate, fueled with months of restrained feelings, almost desperate.

They break apart; their breathing was short and ragged. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. Their foreheads were pressed together, and his hand was entangled in her hair, clasping her head, closer, closer. Fuse the skin together, melt into each other, become one. His eyes bore into her, but she would not meet his gaze. "Rukia?" he murmured her name, soft and gentle; on the opposite spectrum of the kiss they just shared. Her heart clenched. How can someone be rough and demanding, and suddenly flip to being tender and gentle? She shut her eyes, pulling herself away from him.

"Please..."

* * *

※

I sat outside, in the setting sun, in the park. The winter evening was bitingly cold, and yet I'm outside without a coat nor a scarf. It didn't matter. I sat on the swings. One of the legs were bent. An accident happened here last night, I heard, but I couldn't be bothered, not now. I just needed to get out of there, I couldn't bear to sit at home.

"_Please," you said, " I need a while to think, Ichigo."_

"_Will I see you again?"_

_You did not meet my eyes, and silently left the room._

I looked down onto my palm. You were here just now, so close, within reach. And then, like a fleeting summer's day, you were gone. I clenched it tight, just as my eyes. I just thought… I thought —I was so sure— that you would stay this time.

And yet…

I yelled out in frustration and swung my fist onto the metal frame of the swing set, the resounding clang echoed into the orange skies.

※

_You flipping idiot!_

That voice hissed at her, and another joined it, and another, and another. Soon enough, there was a crowd in her mind, all taunting her, chiding her, screaming at her. The noise rose from annoying, to irritating, to chaotic turmoil. She clasped her hands over her ears. "Let me think in peace!"

Rukia let herself fall onto the grassy ground despite the cold. She was at the river, overlooking the setting sun, bright orange. She needed to think. She couldn't bear having to face the same consequences again if she had chosen wrongly. There was no escape from the hundreds of fast moving images flickering past her vision. Nii-sama, Renji, Ukitake-taichou, Orihime… Ichigo.

Her hands fiddled with her phone before she buried her face in her knees, a frustrated groan escaping her lips. Her body was still feeling the heat from his.

Could she ever bear the look on her nii-sama's face if she had decided to stay? Could she bear the risks, if ever, Ichigo decided that no, she was nothing more than a friend he was helping out? Could she ever bear the hurt? Again?

But then again, was she brave enough to leave him again? To face the same repetitious cycle of hollows, paperwork, training and the constant need to put up a façade for her nii-sama, for the other shinigami, for herself? Was she strong enough for that?

The voices in her head sounded again, voicing out their opinions at once, like a swarm of bees. Rukia took a deep, cleansing breath and blacked out her mind.

_Idiot. Sad, simple idiot. Do you not see, Rukia?_

Does she see it? Does she want to see it?

Yes. No. Maybe.

"_Please, Rukia," he said, "Don't leave again."_

His voice resonated in her ears. He sounded so broken. Has he been hurting too? When her eyes locked with his, she knew, she could _see_ it, clear as day. Because she had seen the same devastated look every single day in a mirror.

The look of a person who did _not_ forget.

His image flew past her vision again. That tone in his voice. That look in his eyes. That kiss… She shook her head. He had said something to her just now. When he told her about what he had to go through after she left, she knew he wasn't lying. No one could pretend that sort of hurt. She knows. She's gone through it.

So knowing that, was she callous enough to let him go through what she had to, for the past seven years?

Could she? Could she, really?

The sun was about to set already and the cold was nipping its way into her skin. Her thin clothes rustled against the breeze and the river lapped up against the bank. She clasped her phone and typed out a few words. The voices finally quieted down. She got up, and stared at the evening sky for the longest time, right up until the final bits of the skies has been painted violet before she started to walk away.

She felt a droplet fall on her head. She looked up to see dark clouds rolling together, the rain already drizzling down upon the earth.

The rain had started.

Her phone beeped and lighted up.

Message sent:

_Renji, I'm staying._

Her flowers could bloom again.

* * *

**A/N:** Conventionally, the rain signifies something sad for both Ichigo and Rukia. But this time, I wanted to twist their perception of rain. In chapter 8, I mentioned about Rukia and her flower field.

In this case, rain signifies hope :)

Thank you for reading!


	15. Was It Really Nothing but a Fairytale?

**A/N:** The latest chapter made me MEEEEEEEEEEEEP so much. Isshin/Masaki backstory! I've been waiting for this backstory ever since the Grand Fisher arc and I just- MEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Also, to Veronica111111, thank you so much for the really comment for the past two chapters! It got me out of my slump and had me writing, like lightning. I wanted to reply to you personally, but since you had your PM disabled, I thought I'd post it here instead. Thank you, thank _you_.

Anyway, please enjoy! I _loved_ writing this.

* * *

**XV- Was It Really Nothing but a Fairytale?**

_Some things are destined to be; it just takes a couple of tries to get there. —_J.R. Ward,_ Lover Mine_

* * *

The _splash_es of my shoes against the wet tarred road were dampened against the rush of the steady rain. One foot in front of the other, willed myself to push, and repeat the mind-numbing process. My fists were in my coat pockets, swimming in the small pool of rainwater, my feet were squelching in my drenched shoes, and my hair was sticking onto my forehead, streaking lines of water onto my face.

The winter's air and the rain were mercilessly biting against my skin, but I hardened my skin to keep walking. I didn't know where I was going, I was merely following my auto-pilot feet; all I know is I cannot stay stagnant on one spot. That's when everything invades my mind.

_Rain._

_It was raining that day._

_The ground was so cold, seeping through the torso to all over to his body, from his toes all the way to his head. His body felt heavy too, as if it was too weak to overcome the force of gravity. He was looking upwards, but I could tell he was struggling._

_The air was thick too… of the sharp smell of blood and the rancid smell of near death. There was a growing pool of blood under him. He was bleeding to death. The blood, that was from him. The smell of near death, that was him too. _

_That was me. _

_She was there too, that girl, ever present. _

_She was looking at me, her lips pursed and her eyes glossy with Rain. I felt a stab in my heart, almost like guilt, almost like I caused her to cry. I was the one dying, and yet, I was the one feeling guilty? She mouthed words to me, but I could barely catch what she's saying. I was struggling to stay conscious. Black curls of death were slowly creeping its way into my eyes. _

_I heard her, breaking and broken, and just barely:_

"_Just die here quietly, Ichigo…!"_

I shut my eyes, taking deep cleansing breaths. I exhaled, and then I felt like there was nothing in me, deflated, used up and flat. It felt like there was a hole carved out in me before, right in the middle of my chest; a clean cut hole, as big as a plate. And when you returned last night, something swelled in me and filled up that hole, made me complete again. But today. You left, again. And it's like you took a metal bat and swung it right at me, smashing that newly healed wound, and leaving broken jagged bits sticking out from the clean cut.

You did this.

This was your fault. Why did you come back? Why didn't you just leave, and leave _completely_ in the first place, Rukia? Why did you have to return and give me hope and then crush it back into dust and ashes? If you didn't want to stay, why the hell did you _return_?

I was angry at you now. I clenched my fist and gnashed my teeth as I stomped my way towards nowhere. Anger was good. Anger was a searing, scorching hot white flame that burned in the pit of my stomach and bubbled forth, fighting back against the elements. Anger snapped my head up from looking at my scuffling feet. Anger kept me going, stomp by stomp.

But anger made me blind, unaware; made me do rash things without realizing it. It's the flame: it made me rash, and made me charge headfirst. This isn't the first time anger has consumed me, no. And I don't think it will be the last. Blind and unaware, the next thing I realized was that I was led home, slamming the door to my house, dripping rainwater onto the front porch, my knuckles torn and bleeding again. I vaguely remember striking my fist against a wall to futilely release the rage within me. I kicked my shoes off and trudged irritably into the house, not caring of the soggy mess I was making.

There was a quiet clang.

I stopped in my tracks. Something was not right. I stood up straight, the flame suddenly snuffed out. The lights were on, in the living room, the hallway and the kitchen. The heating was on. And most of all, there was a distinct smell wafting about.

Curry.

And rice.

I turned around and treaded softly, the knot in my eyebrows due to suspicion rather than anger now. Foot by foot, I placed it on the tiled floor and pushed forwards, my body slightly crouched, as if doing so would make me invisible. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, my breath felt constricted, and my treads were getting slower… and… slower… as if I don't actually want to find out who was… in… the… kitchen.

Someone was there: a petite figure near the stove, stirring. She had raven black hair, skin as white as death, wearing a dark blue shirt and grey trackpants. "You know," she voiced out, shutting off the stove with her back still facing me, "I can see you from here, Ichigo."

Without her turning, I know that the shirt has a bunny print in the middle, I know that there was a stubborn lock of hair across her face, and I know that she has brilliant, bright purple eyes much more dazzling than any hue that my mind could ever imagine.

She turned.

_You_ turned.

※

He was so fast, almost like shunpo, and he pulled her petite body against his, his arms around her torso, his head in the crook of her neck. But she jumped back, away from him, shrieking. He took a step behind, his face alarmed and stunned at her reaction, like he was afraid that she might disappear into thin air in front of him.

"Ichigo!" she shouted, rubbing her hands against her arms, "You're freezing." He blinked at her, almost disbelievingly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and tutted at the dripping rainwater.

"You came back..." the words were whispered, almost inaudible.

She unraveled her arms and looked up at him, a wisp of an expression painted on her face, as if she was looking at him— _really_ looking at him for the first time. She nearly sighed. He took a step forward and took her wrist in his hand, gently this time.

"Rukia, you're back."

She smiled at him, a simple small curve of her lips. She loved to hear her name upon his lips. "I told you, Ichigo," she said, equally as soft, "I needed time to think."

The grip on her wrist tightened, his thumb sweeping across her palm, zipping electricity across their nerves. His expression was serious, and his tone was nearly grim as he asked her, "Will you stay this time?"

"I promised I won't leave, didn't I?" she whispered, squeezing his cold hand. And she added, with a grin, "No matter how annoying you might find me."

That expression slowly lightened, and soon a huge grin stretched upon his lips. He grinned so widely, before the bubbling sensation within him burst, and he started laughing, doubling forwards in… what? Relief? Happiness? He didn't know what he was feeling, but it felt good; he felt _better_. "Okay," he finally managed, "Alright, Rukia." She grinned at his face; it was too contagious not to.

"Now move. You're making a mess in my kitchen," she chided, pushing him squarely in the torso, towards the bathroom. "You're going to get sick, Ichigo."

"Doctors don't get sick," he commented, that grin still upon his face, before entering the bathroom.

* * *

※

With the blanket pulled up to her chin, she turned her phone over and over again in her hands. She pulled her legs closer to her chest and turned to her side on the sofa-bed. Rukia flipped her phone open and read the first message in her inbox once more.

"From: Renji

Are you really sure about this, Rukia? Look, I'll let you rest there for the night. Think really carefully about this, please. Don't rush into things."

_Was _she rushing into things? She would have to admit, probably, yeah. But to think about her time back in Soul Society… she couldn't bear to face that routine all over again, forever. Ichigo looked happy that she returned, but how can she be sure he'll be happy with her lingering around his house till… when?

Her thumbs hovered over the keys, trying to think of a reply. White blankness shrouded her brain. She opened her eyes and stared onto the screen until the words became a mess of scrambled letters in her head.

_Think really carefully about this, please. _Her eyes closed as she remembered her best friend's expression whenever he _tried_ to talk to her. She never properly listened to what he tried to say, much less reply him. She was so cold to him while she was back in Soul Society, and yet here he was, still thinking about the best for her. She pulled her cover to her lips, sighing into the material.

"Hey."

She snapped her head to the entrance of the living room. Ichigo stood against the darkness, but she could just barely make out the outline of his silhouette. He raised his hand in greeting, and she thought she saw a smile on his lips. She sat up as he walked into the room.

"Can't sleep either?"

She shook her head. He sat down. The tip of her right knee was brushing against his hip, and she pulled back, circling her arms around her legs. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to grasp what to say. He was tossing and turning in his bed, worrying incessantly about her; whether she would actually stay or leave as he slept again. But now that he was actually in her vicinity, he had nothing to say. He just needed to know that she was still here.

"Ummm, what's up?" Rukia asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, her toes curling at the feeble attempt at a conversation starter. She clutched the blanket in her hands.

"I couldn't sleep— so I thought… I'd check up on you. See if you needed anything."

"Basically watching me while I sleep?" she concluded, "Pervert."

They both laughed, and the tension was broken. She moved aside and patted the spot next to her. He grinned and moved onto the bed. It was funny how easy it was for him to fall back into this warm familiarity with her. Neither said a word, but this time they didn't feel like they had to.

Moments passed before he thought up of something. "Hey, Rukia?" he said, nudging her gently, breaking the slight silence between them, "Tell me about…" he paused; his eyebrows creasing as if trying to remember an old forgotten word. He turned to her and finished his sentence, "_Soul Society. _Tell me about Soul Society."

Her eyebrows rose slightly at the sudden request, but then she smiled. She leant back against the sofa and told him about the conventional things about Soul Society: shinigamis and the Gotei 13, plus spirits and hollows, Rukongai and Seretei.

They were both lying on the bed now; she was facing upwards, towards the ceiling, towards Heaven. And he lied down next to her, his arm under his head, his eyes intent and focused against her being. Her eyes alighted and her gestures lively. He smiled to himself.

Her voice took a softer turn when she told him about the more… special things on Soul Society. About how the forest where they practiced kidou blazed orange and red during autumn; about the existence of a secret small lake, just outside the seventh district of Rukongai; about how she liked to sit in the Thirteenth Division and watch the kois swim; about how she would sometimes sit up at night and just watch the moon glow.

She doesn't mention how he usually joins her in those places before, how _he_ was the one who made those places extra special. She fell into the quiet for a moment, and locked her eyes onto his. She wondered, for a brief moment, does he remember… about himself?

She held her gaze at him for a while, and then she finally asked, "You were a shinigami once, Ichigo. Do you remember?"

She looked at him, trying to see if there was any sliver of recognition in him. They were so close; if there was _anything_, she would be able to see it.

Nothing.

Instead, he chortled, not unkind, but due to surprise or disbelief. "_I_ was a shinigami before?"

He does not remember, of course not.

But he looked like he wanted to know.

So she told him. Properly, this time.

"It was ten years ago. A hollow attacked your family. So I gave you a part of my powers—or rather, you _took_ all of my powers." She laughed, pushing her hand against his shoulder. "Terrible greedy bastard you were."

"I did not!"

"You did…! I don't know what happened, but you took _all_ of it, Kurosaki." She paused, looking into the black ceiling. "Maybe it was because you felt the need to protect your sisters. Yuzu was hurt really badly that night."

His eyebrows rose in complete surprise and he held on to her forearm and stopped her. "You know my sister."

She smiled. "I know your family. Yuzu, Karin, your father, Isshin-san." She did not tell him that she knew about his mother too; that was too complicated of a story. It would be told at another time. His eyebrows creased in question, but he did not say a word about it. It seemed like he was seriously taking all of this in. He prompted her to continue.

"You were powerful, Ichigo," she murmured. "One of the strongest shinigamis I've ever met." Her expression changed this time, and it no longer felt like she was talking to him. It appeared like she was reliving the memories in her head. "The transferring of powers was illegal. I was brought back to Soul Society for my execution. But you crashed into Soul Society, and tried to save me." She chuckled to herself. "You were such an idiot, trying to accomplish such a feat."

"You made a complete wreck of things, I heard. I heard you forced your way into Soul Society using a crude firework launcher. You battled with captain-level shinigamis. You fought with Renji, and my brother, and just about anyone you came in contact with," she continued, "And you survived."

This all sounded so surreal, but it somehow, he felt like everything was plausible, like he could believe in these stories. No matter how unbelievable it sounded. Because even though it seemed like he was listening to a fairytale, the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice, though, told him otherwise.

"I was locked in a cell during the time. I barely had updates on what was happening. There were only wisps of reiatsu I could feel, but nothing more. I thought you were an idiot, trying to do such a thing. I thought you were going to die a foolish death in Soul Society. But then… on the day of my execution… there you were, wearing a brown mantelpiece, with a self-satisfied smirk upon your face, holding on to Zangetsu like a proud, arrogant kid."

She smiled at the memory, and it was at an instinct that she glanced at him. But this time, she saw that his eyes were distant and he was staring into the air.

"Ichigo?"

Suddenly, he murmured to himself, his eyes glazing over like he was trying to catch a thin thread of memory in his mind, "...white kimono. Vivid blue skies. Blazing fire."

Her heart skipped a beat. Rukia could have sworn that she saw a flash of recognition in his eyes. It was so brief but as radiant as a forest fire. "A giant phoenix…" he finally managed to say, before the memory in his head blurred off.

"Hey..."

He snapped back into reality, a confused look in them now. She touched the base of his neck, her eyebrows creasing. "Are you okay?" He shook his head, not answering her question. She looked at him with askance. He focused his eyes and cupped her face with his calloused hands, guiding for her to meet his.

_You have purple eyes, Rukia._

Then there was an ominous white fog clouding his head.

She sat up, a frown knotting her eyebrows. What was going on? He refused to let it fade away. It seemed important. His heart was beating fast against his ribcage, his brain racing, sprinting, rushing to retrieve that thin thread of memory. This image has zipped past his mind so many times, but this time, he does not want it to leave.

"I saved you, didn't I, Rukia?"

Her heart skipped a beat. What...? Was he actually... remembering...?

"H-Huh...?"

The twang of hurt started to fizzle back into his head, just like that other night. Someone was picking on his brain with a scalpel, poking, prodding. He fought it back and gripped her arms tight, trying to keep his eyes open against the pain. "You were there, Rukia in the burning… house." He shut his eyes—_no, that wasn't it._ "It was a... burning bird. A phoenix."

She couldn't do a thing, paralyzed by his actions, by him. The memory modifier was working its way back against him, and what could she do? His breaths were shallow; his grip was crushing; his forehead was dotted with perspiration, as if the will to remember itself required herculean strength.

"Ichigo, stop!" she finally said, "You're hurting yourself!"

It seemed like hours, but he finally stopped shaking, and lied still in her arms, his breaths finally normal and his heart no longer erratic. "Ichigo?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

He brought up a trembling hand and took hers, clutching it tightly in his, against his lips. His hands were clammy and cold. She repositioned herself and their foreheads touched. His eyes were still closed, but his grip was strong.

"What was that?" she asked.

_Are you remembering, Ichigo? Can you remember who you were? Who I was?_

_Can you remember _us_?_

"Freaking migraine," he muttered, almost laughing. "Sorry about that."

Her shoulders sagged. A migraine? Could he really never recall anything about his previous time anymore…? Was the memory modifier too strong, even for him? Were those memories gone forever to him now? She can never know. But what was even more disheartening was that maybe she could never tell him about Soul Society anymore. There was the memory paradox to be wary of. She never wanted that attack to happen to him ever again. She wiped the perspiration off his forehead and forced a smile.

"I'll go get you some aspirin," she started, about to leave the sofa-bed. But he gripped her wrist, preventing her from departing. His eyes were hard, but his tone was so soft.

"Stay, Rukia."

She hesitated, but soon got back under the blankets and sat down beside him. She desperately wanted to ask if he could remember anything; the way that he said those words was more than haunting. It _gripped_ them, like the clutches of a hollow.

"_I saved you, didn't I, Rukia?"_

The memories were still in him, somewhere, just no longer accessible. She wanted to blame everything to herself again. She wanted to turn back time. She wanted to apologize. She wanted for _him to remember_.

They were lying down face to face, but neither were looking at each other. His eyebrows creased. He… could remember something. Just bits and pieces, like chunks of images. But unlike the flashing scenes he usually gets, this was so vivid, bright and felt so _real_. His heartbeats thrummed at the memory, his mind was racing, his mouth was dry. He wanted to ask her about it and tell her everything.

But he couldn't find the strength in himself to tell her. It felt like his tongue turned to lead whenever he thought about it, like there was something physically blocking him.

_There's something I want to say, Rukia. But I can't say it._

His hand was in her hair, caressing it. He realized what he was doing, but he didn't want to stop. She doesn't pull away, and he leant in closer, so close that the tips of their noses touched. "Rukia...?" Their eyes met with each other's and he hesitated a while, as if asking her, _May I, Rukia? _

He didn't know when it happened, or who closed the gap between them, but his hand was cupping the back of her neck, his fingers trailing the soft hair at the back of her head and he was kissing her deeply.

There were images at the back of his eyes, flashes again: tears cascading down; a burning flame, red eyes, like a bird's; a white kimono and those brilliant eyes— he broke off.

He looked at those beautiful eyes and whispered, just for her to hear.

"I missed you, Rukia."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. Deep brown eyes, like an abyss with a black hole in its center, pulling her in, unrestrained and uninhibited. She blinked at him, not knowing what to say. Her mind was a complete blank, as if those words gave her such a shock to her system.

She just realized how much she'd wanted to hear those words.

"I'm glad you're home."

_Home. _

This was home.

Here, with him.

"I missed you too, Ichigo."

He smiled at her, just a brief, short one. He cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her again, deeper, slower and more intimate, and this time, as they pulled apart, she thought she heard him whisper, so, so softly:

_I think I remember you, Rukia._

* * *

**A/N:** Can you tell why I _loved_ writing this chapter? Thank you for reading! Your support keeps me coming back to write more; thank you, thank you, thank you!


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